


The Currents Will Shift

by meeokie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Daddy Kink, Dress Up, Fingerfucking, Keith is maybe mid 20s, Lance is in college above drinking age, Light BDSM, M/M, New England college small town AU, OT3, Polyamory, Rimming, Rough Sex, Service Kink, Shiro is 39 or something, Shower Sex, Switch Keith (Voltron), Threesome - M/M/M, Top Shiro (Voltron), established sheith, intense feelings, lance noodles in like he usually does, shklance - Freeform, there is even a coffee shop, whole lotta sex tags but I promise feelings happen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-24 23:10:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 60,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meeokie/pseuds/meeokie
Summary: Lance liked to think he had his shit together- at least, enough so that he could fake it most days and honestly, a lot of it was together, just not how he hoped it to be (especially in the dating department). But he was doing ok: classes started, he got a new job to help pay for the ever increasing cost of books he’d never use again after three months, and currently he was staring at possibly the most attractive man he’d seen in a long-ass time, completely forgetting what the fuck he was supposed to be doing in that very moment.Unfortunately for Lance, a whole slew of ‘what the fuck’ moments were about to bombard him in the form broad, tall, and unfairly salt and peppered hair paired with small, mean, and just as annoyingly hot. And oh yeah, he did notice the rings, but that apparently did nothing to deter his new acquaintances of fucking with him in more than one way.Lance’s shit was far from together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh man, I am so stoked this is finished! I have to give credit to [Carrionflower](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrionflower/works) for so, so much - not only my amazing beta-reader/editor, but also a huge inspiration to this AU. Lots and lots of convos throwing around this idea happened and I am glad I was able to form the world enough to create this fic. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

“Shit, shit, okay - stop, seriously - where is the stop button on this thing?”

Lance had not intended on getting a job unless he one hundred percent, for real, actually needed it. It just happened to turn out that he did need it this semester, and probably the entirety of the school year, and then even maybe his senior year too. It wasn’t like he was allergic to the work or anything; he’d been in plenty of part-time jams here and there, slacking off where he could (the mailroom was really the best for that, sucks they didn’t want him back). It was just - he’d never exactly worked in a coffee shop. Also he sort of didn’t drink coffee, by default, and so far in the past week he’d made up all sorts of recommendations of what was ‘his favorite’ and ‘what should I get today?’. At least now he remembered to stick to the menu instead of completely making something up. No, they didn’t actually serve cinnamon apple fritter lattes (but they totally should, right?).

The ad specifically said no previous experience needed. Maybe he wanted to get off campus a little too, shake things up a bit in a town where nothing came close to shaking. Yes, he was living his best life now, on this fine fall morning, at exactly 9:13 AM. This town had a college campus and precisely one street which they properly named ‘Main Street”. Shaking things up meant walking ten minutes from his crappy never-warm-enough apartment and across the street.

Working open to close couldn’t be that bad, right?

Lance found the stop button.

It was nice in a way - to be so busy that he forgot to look at the clock. It was the first Saturday in his schedule, being eased into the barista life with  shifts after class and the slow drift of college kids and a few regulars from town popping in for after-dinner drinks and dessert. A whole lot of hot chocolates, and wherever that pumpkin cheesecake came from, they were absolutely making bank; the shop sold out of it every night. It was stable, something to help with the dent in his credit card from having to buy new editions again this year. Seriously, why was it required for a class when all the editors did was change a paragraph and correct typos and then _wham_ , $400 instead of $20 for a used copy?

Lance had bad luck with that; he’d been hit each of his three years with at least one merciless professor. 

10:27 AM and Lance was sort of getting the hang of it. Normal coffee was super easy - no problem with that. It was just the...mocha soy three shots no whip but extra caramels that he still fumbled over, internally praying the machine in front of him would just produce it magically so he could slide it across the counter as well as slide whoever it was in front of him a smile. He was good at that part. It worked better when he didn’t say anything other than ‘Here you go”.

He’d been staring, probably for too long now. It wasn’t polite to do that with customers, or anyone really, but Lance couldn’t help himself, not when someone like that was just…existing? Right in front of him? How dare he, with his...nice _everything_.

He hissed at the jab to his side, his only other co-worker giving him a very specific eye that meant she was calculating exactly how much of their tips Lance was not getting. He could tell by the sinister glint that shined off her glasses.

“Don’t keep the man waiting - no way to treat someone who's been coming here every weekend for years.”

Right. Black coffee, no sugar, exactly two creams - an easy order but Lance frowned to himself; there wasn’t any way for it to stand out. Plus, it was to-go. His mind wandered a bit, taking his sweet time with measuring and depositing the cream. Every weekend for years? Lance was no detective, but this guy was not in college considering the splash of grey throughout his unshaven face and somehow clean-cut but still sort of messy hair he caught from glancing at his side profile. That meant he was a townie, or a regular, or maybe a teacher. There was nothing else to do around here besides take classes.

He’d been working here for exactly one week - wait, no, like two, almost. A small sigh - Lance hadn’t seen him at all during his weekly late shifts. Maybe next weekend then; he’d be faster by then. He’d have this guy’s coffee ready for him before he even asked.

As Lance slid the drink past the wide counter, the little doodled napkin shark he’d been working on when he had a moment to fidget between the short bursts of people-rush caught on the corner of the cute customer’s drink before Lance could notice.

“Your coffee’s up! Black, no sugar, two crea….”

Big Handsome spun around, his worn brown leather jacket’s metal loops clicking against the counter, smiling before his gaze dropped to the napkin.

“This come with the drink?” He tapped the napkin, fingers dirty what could only be assumed as motor grease. “It’s cute. Can I keep it…” A pause, a hint of a grin, and then those eyes trailing back up. “...Lance?”

Lance forgot how to make words come out of his mouth. Well, that was only partially true - something came out, but it would have been better if nothing did.

“How… how do you know my name?” The sincerity of his awe would have won some sort of acting award but that wasn’t anywhere near Lance’s major. No, he just forgot he had a name tag, hyper-focused as he was on memorizing every possible detail of this hot™ older guy’s face. And jacket. And red flannel peeking out underneath, and…

The customer leaned over the counter, flicked his dirty fingers against the small plastic pinned to Lance’s shirt and boy, did he ever catch a nice hint of cologne, or maybe just normal soap, but mixed with, like… dirt, and some other stuff. It didn’t really matter; Lance was standing there with wide eyes, the delay to look down at his name tag dragging longer than it should have until he nervously half-laughed, “Ah... oh. _Oh_. Right. Because it's - there, right there on me. Boy. It’s been a long morning, huh? Feels like eight hours already, I wonder when I get a break? Heh... any-anyways, enjoy your coffee! You can, uh, have that. Some of my finest work, really, let me know if you frame it.”

He did that thing - you know, the _thing_ Lance does, when he keeps talking, when the nerves build up and every word that comes out sort of just makes it worse until he can trick himself into shutting up. It wasn’t his fault! This guy - and he was still looking! Still mere inches away and then he was backing up, fingers retreating and... chuckling?

The guy shook his head a bit, dragging the paper to-go cup to his lips and taking a quick sip. “This is perfect, by the way. Guess I’ll have to ask for your services next time. You take requests - for the napkin art?”

Were they having a conversation now? Was this real? Maybe Lance should take up drinking this stuff himself; he sure felt like he needed it right at this very moment.

“Name’s Shiro - don’t have any fancy nametag so you’ll have to take my word.” He - Shiro - shot him a small smile and Lance watched him take one more sip and tried not to stare as, horrifyingly, Shiro licked coffee off his top lip. Life wasn’t fair.

Luckily, he was saved, or at least he _thought_ he was. The door chimed open, harder than it usually did like someone was being too rough with the old thing. It was fitting, of course, because the next person that walked through was staring right at Lance before the other even looked up, staring in some weird, oddly specific cruel sort of way, like he knew something Lance didn’t. Like Lance was about to be in trouble for just existing in the same space.

He plucked a half-finished cigarette from his lips and smashed it against the communal outdoor ashtray without breaking eye contact, a gloved hand coming up to wipe at his mouth before letting the door close behind him.

Lance forgot about the person right in front of him just for a second and he really, really didn’t want to know what his face looked like right now because this other guy - well, he was stalking towards them, some sort threatening smirk or... how did he even do that with his lips? What the hell?

Was he in trouble? Lance looked back towards the counter just as Shiro turned around, nonchalant, cup in hand and napkin doodle slipped into his jacket pocket discreetly.

“Keith, babe, you sure you don’t want anything? Lance here made me something special.”

The new guy snapped from semi-annoyed at his pet name and then intensely interested... or mad, or something, eyes landing on Lance once more as he looked him up and down. He’d apparently been watching them from outside, enjoying his cigarette with slow, lazy drags as he watched Shiro take longer than necessary to get the easiest damn thing to make in this coffee shop.

Lance was frozen - he had no help here, as his only other co-worker had pushed through the supply room door and left him all alone to deal with... whatever this was. He was suddenly very aware of the fact he’d been kind of flirting with a hot older guy who had what seemed to be a hot younger boyfriend by the name of ‘babe’. But wait! The universe loved to fuck with him, clearly, because said hot younger boyfriend ran a possessive hand up Shiro’s shoulder and around the collar of his leather jacket, the simple gold ring along his finger glaringly obvious right in front of Lance’s face.

Well, fuck. Hot younger _husband_.

“Nah. You know I don’t like this shit, plus I want that hot cider - c’mon, it’s gonna be a bitch to find parking already, we missed the farmer’s market last weekend.” Keith made damn sure that Lance saw - he spoke to Shiro but his eyes stayed on the barista before giving that weird, threatening smile again and then slipping his hand back down to tug at the front of the older man’s jacket.

“Bye, Lance.”

It sounded terribly condescending, but the apologetic echo of another ‘Bye, Lance’ made it slightly better, Shiro raising his to-go cup in the air and giving him a far less terrifying smile. They left like that, Keith dragging Shiro through the chiming door, grinning as he whispered something secret that made the other chuckle and shake his head. Then they were gone.

What the fuck. Lance stood there, staring at the front door as if it would tell him anything about what just happened or why. It was 10:36 AM and he just flirted with apparently a married couple. A married, hot couple. It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

Okay, so, Lance sucked at a lot of things. Seriously, the list was pretty large by now, and included neat things like ‘choked on some noodles more than once’ and ‘forgot to even apply to that job and then got mad when they never called back.’ But man, he totally did not suck at this, for the most part. It turns out once you start repeating things daily, you can get kind of good at them, maybe even great! Yeah, he was the best. Practically the Coffee King now, after a mere three weeks even. All hail King Lance, etc. The best in the land (one girl slid him a whole $2 tip and said it was the best PSL she’d ever had).

He was in the zone. Really slamming out coffees like it was his job (it was). He didn’t even have the time to recall anything during the Saturday morning rush, but if he did, he’d confirm that nothing compared to the good vibes he had going on, all smiles and finger guns and hey, some people even smiled back. Shit, it was a good morning.

So, of course, Keith had to be the one to ruin it.

Low key, Lance had been hoping Mr. Tall, sort of grey, and really, really handsome would come in, but it was already past the hour he came last week. He shrugged it off, threw himself into good customer service and had sort of forgotten all about Shiro until he caught a glimpse of messy dark hair and the weird waft of barely there cigarette smoke that follows you in through a door from outside.

Lance had been mid-restock of individually wrapped biscotti which sat in front of the card reader at the register, the ones that make you feel bad if you don’t get it because it’s only a dollar and maybe you _do_ need a sort-of cookie thing with your coffee, right? Approximately two of them slipped from Lance’s hands and were crushed when he looked up and saw Keith staring knives right into him, like he had personally stepped on his pet hamster and lied about it or something. He froze, for lack of a better term; completely forgot he even had cookies in his grasp or what he was supposed to be doing with them because he could not look away from that stare. He’d _lose_ if he did, even as he felt heat start to creep it’s way up his cheeks.

“Uh...I. H-Hi, welcome to...”

“Shut it, don’t care.”

A few things happened all at once in that moment. One, Lance physically took a half-step back because Keith had pressed himself over the counter and right into the other’s personal bubble, again, stabbing with his weird invisible knives. Two, Lance forgot how to words once more, instead actually obeying the crude order, although his dumb mouth was locked open in shock and/or awe. And three, the most unexpected of all, Keith held his mean gaze until it broke into some knowing grin and a snarky low chuckle, a gloved hand sliding past the forgotten biscotti to present a crumpled receipt from the town’s only mechanic shop.

“Cute. Guess Shiro was right. This is for you, from him. And no, I don’t want any shitty coffee. Nice seeing you, Lance.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Well, Keith didn’t dramatically poof into nothingness, it was more like Lance stood there like an idiot staring at the black leather jacket retreating back outside, and then continued to stare even longer when he caught a glimpse of Shiro for just a moment in front of the windows. A motorcycle. Keith hopping on the back. Shiro’s gloved fingers trailed across Keith’s chin and then they left, and so did all of Lance’s ability of logical thought.

Scribbled on the back of the mechanic’s receipt (someone had purchased one bottle of oil and a single air freshener) was a set of numbers and below it, well below the coffee ring stain and wiped-off ketchup were the words “We don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Lance messed up six orders in a row after that, his zone officially stomped on by a grumpy, shitty mullet that was somehow hot, but holy shit, he got a phone number. And probably a real one this time.

 

* * *

 

_hey its me, uh. Lance… from the coffee shop? You know, napkin guy...with the shark and. Anyways, your boyfriend? Husband? Angry guy with the hair - gave me this number man I hope this is actually your number and not someone’s mom or something wow that would suck._

How long was too long when someone tells you they don’t like waiting? Was immediately after his shift ended too long? Was that too early? Should he wait like everyone else says you should? Make the other person want it or whatever stupid game that’s supposed to work? Maybe after dinner then, but before homework? No - then he’d never focus on the actual homework. If no one texted back he’d be bummed. If someone, hopefully Shiro, did text back... well, there was no chance he’d even crack open his $400 book.

Lance texted on his last fifteen-minute break, at around 3:46 PM.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t bummed that nothing came back immediately, nor did it before his break was over. The last two hours of work dragged because of it, and also because who wants to drink coffee at dinnertime when they could actually be eating dinner at a real food place? Apparently, the answer to that was 2.5 people.

His phone buzzed seven minutes into some very drab reading about some war he’d already forgotten the name of, or when it happened, or why. Sort of his own fault for attempting homework on a Saturday night but his BFF was home for the weekend and everyone else in Lance’s shithole apartment were out at a party they clearly didn't invite him to.

_Hi Lance. Don’t worry, this isn’t someone’s mom I promise :) Sorry for such a late reply, there was a time sensitive repair at the shop, I had to help Keith for a few hours. Is now a good time to chat? If not, that’s fine._

“Oh, fuck, shit. Okay. Okay, Lance, be cool. You can do that, right? No one can even see you talking to yourself in your underwear, totally 100% cool. And chill. Casually, and in a cool, chill way, talk to someone’s hot husband on a Saturday night. Normal people things. Happens all the time.”

His phone actually slipped out of his hands once - stupid, noodly fingers cursing him as he tried to wrap his mind around the info dump he’d just received and also the fact that this was actually, for real, happening. Angry hair guy was Keith. Noted. Hot, older, totally have never jerked it to thinking about what his salt-and-pepper scruff would feel like on his inner thigh - Shiro. Repair at a shop, helping Keith? Somewhere he worked?

Lance shifted on his bed, reaching for his haphazardly thrown jeans and knocking his homework to the floor in the process. He fished out the receipt with Shiro’s number and flipped it over. Garrison Auto Repair. Okay - that made sense. Lance had seen it in passing - the only mechanic in town, but he didn’t own a car, so...well, the answer to why he never saw Keith was obvious. Shiro on the other hand - still lots of questions.

_Nows perfect! Just doing some homework you know, real exciting Saturday night plans. Thanks for the number...ah, well. Tell Keith I said thanks for it too? Even though its your number right? Uh...just thanks all around haha_

Lance had this bad habit of typing and then immediately sending whatever vomited out of his mind without second-guessing or even reading it over just once. Instead, he read it back after it sent and then carefully placed a pillow over his entire face area and whined pathetically into it.

Great. Good answer. Real fuckin’ cool, and chill.

_ur welcome i guess. Cool plans nerd, you do that every saturday? How do i ungive a phone #_

Lance sat there, squinting at his phone like it would tell him what the fuck just happened. Luckily he didn’t have to try too hard.

_Sorry about that, Keith’s sitting with me - that was him. He’s sort of rude sometimes but he’s secretly a very nice boy :) Anyways, I know this might seem odd or a bit sudden, but would you like to come out for drinks with us next Saturday? We like to unwind at Shay’s - do you know that bar? There’s only three or so in town, we could meet you there unless it’s too far for you or you prefer somewhere else_

Lance lived six minutes from Shay’s, or fifteen minutes if you were hammered coming back from Shay’s. Fuck yeah, he’d like to unwind, especially with Shiro...wait. Us? As in...us, like the meaning of, not one person? Before he could stop the word vomit, it slipped from his fingers and sent itself.

_I’d love that. So - both of you? You both want to chill? I mean unwind. With me? I can probably find a someone from class if you wanna double date, dunno what ‘nice boy’ is into but I can work my magic_

‘My magic.’ Working it. Right - real smooth. Real good sentences that just were sent to the probably hottest dude Lance has ever seen in this tiny town, who was somehow married to another hot dude? Two hottest people, and Lance had just typed all of that. He pressed his phone to his face, trying to get the wave of embarrassment to pass but damn, it was a slow, agonizing roll. He was almost too nervous to look at the familiar buzz of an incoming notification.

_not interested in that one girl that smiled that one time but she was smiling at the person behind you probably lol. And yea, is that a problem? Just us, just bring urself, maybe some weed if u_

Lance couldn’t help the smile that cracked at that, instantly recognizing Keith’s typing instead of Shiro’s. Normally he’d fake intense hurt at such a comment but Keith, unfortunately, wasn’t far off from what usually happened.

_Forgive Keith, I told him it’s not polite to just ask for weed like that but he never listens to me. Well, he does, but only at specific times. But yes, just you. Does that sound ok? This time next Saturday?_

Was this really happening? After a full semester of failed attempts and some half-assed drunken makeouts. Had he somehow struck gold? Was this the return on karma for those $400 new edition textbooks? Lance didn’t know, and he really didn’t care either. He sat alone on his bed, grinning like he’d just won $50 off a scratch ticket.

_No worries, Keith’s cool I guess. I’ll bring myself guaranteed. Weed - 50/50 but I’ll see whats up this week. Sounds like a good time, I’ll be there._

Right as he hit send, Lance scrambled to send another.

_Is it ok to talk before then? Like text I mean. Totally cool if not just...you know. Had to check_

A few long minutes passed and…

_I’d love that - please feel free, although Keith’s better at it than I am_

And then immediately, a notification from another number.

_yea Shiro’s old man hands are too big 4 his phone, text me too, I like nudes better tho_

Alone like this, Lance could properly process himself without the danger of smashing biscotti. After his roulette wheel of emotions stopped and landed on horny, he decided the best thing to do in such dangerous, trying times was to one-up shitty Keith and his stupid attractive mean smile.

It wasn’t exactly a nude photo, but some clothing was missing, and not all of his face was showing in the shot but hey, can’t give away all the goods at once. Lance sucked at a lot of things, but taking suggestive and well-framed slutty photos was not one of them.

He sent it to only Keith and got a text back almost immediately.

_fuck yea, thats the shit i like. Better make it worth my saturday night. O also shiro saw, whoops_

_Well now, I see you are both getting along. I’m looking forward to next weekend a little more now. Goodnight Lance ;)_

Lance forgot about his homework of course. He also forgot to care that it was only 10:39 PM on a Saturday night and he jerked himself to sleep in almost record time, high off the indulgent, odd feeling of attention from two attractive men that happened to be married to each other.

It was going to be a long-ass week.

 

* * *

 

“You sure about this? It’s been a while since we’ve indulged - I know you say you don’t get jealous but Keith, it’s easy to see when it’s all over your face.”

“Mm, sounds fake. Saw you flirting with him through the window. You know how I get when you pull that shit. Not my fault he’s hot and I wanna see how far he can go before breaking.”

Keith laid there, wedged between Shiro’s legs with his head tucked beneath his husband’s jaw, bottle of beer in one hand and phone in the other. The TV was off, just a low-burning fire and the one light he’d flicked on when they got home. A common Saturday night ritual: an old flannel blanket thrown across their feet, Shiro warm and freshly showered smelling like...whatever the fuck cheap soap Keith remembered to pick up at Walgreens.

“Hey, don’t scare him away already. He seems sweet, and maybe a little... innocent? Endearing? Is that the right word? Well, maybe not _that_ innocent, considering that picture he sent you…”

“Getting soft in your old age, huh? Come on, Shiro, he’s got fuckboy potential, not that that’s gonna stop me. He didn’t say no to both of us, so at least he’s got guts.” He grinned to himself, tapping his phone to pull up Lance’s picture again, zooming in on that cocky smile, the photo cutting off right beneath his eyes. “Wonder if he has any idea what he’s walking into.”

“Now you’re just teasing. You’ve been like this all day - clearly someone needs to relax more.” The sound of Shiro’s half-finished beer hitting a granite coaster echoed through the open space of the cabin, his other hand snatching Keith’s phone from him and tossing it on a side table before the other could even protest. He did allow a personal glance at the photo, just for a moment. A wide expanse of tanned skin, shirtless, angled just right - Lance knew how to do this. Shiro wondered exactly how much he’d be able to offer next weekend if everything went well.

“Floor,” Shiro said, suddenly commanding. “On your knees - you know how I want it. Be a good boy.”

No protest or haughty comment came; instead, Keith settled his drink next to Shiro’s and pulled himself off the couch, folding neatly before his husband as the other arranged for better access, thighs spread in a relaxed recline. He held his own soft smile as he watched Keith position himself, shifting until he was comfortable on their old, faded rug, hands clasped behind him and finally his head lowering and pressing forward so that Shiro could reach out and pet him if he so pleased.

“You want to see him break, you said? Well, I think you can imagine what I’d like to see. But really, I’d be happy just to watch you two, or maybe see how he fares watching us? Maybe tie you up and watch me break him instead, how does that sound?”

Shiro watched Keith’s fingers twitch behind him, the sound of the other swallowing and the tiniest shift of his body forward, most likely unknown to him but Shiro knew all too well. He reached with one hand, sinking fingers through those unruly dark locks and tugged the boy closer, guiding him until Keith’s cheek rested against the inside of his bare thigh. This too was part of their Saturday ritual - a long shower and the day’s clothes replaced with only boxers. Shiro hoped Lance would indulge, if he made it that far through the night.

“Would you like that, Keith? To bring him home?” Shiro said this softer, his hand still moving through the other’s hair in lazy strokes as he kept an eye on the rise and fall of Keith’s chest. Sometimes it was a bit jarring to see him slip so easily into this - snide remarks and asking strangers for nudes and now quiet, attentive, and waiting patiently for an order. It took years of practice, of course, and Shiro letting that fire burn bright when it needed to consume something. Lance was in for a treat.

“Yes, Sir,” Keith said as he gazed up at Shiro. “I’d like that…”

 

* * *

 

Lance flipped to his weather app for the sixth time since he’d arrived fifteen minutes early, confirming once again that it was indeed cold as fuck. He’d agonized over his outfit, thrown everything he had across the room and scattered it atop any surface, not satisfied with any of his normal “hang out and drink a lot” clothes. It wasn’t the same, right? It wasn’t like he was about to get shitfaced with Hunk and Pidge, he didn’t need to impress them with his hoodie and t-shirt rotation. But this - this was a for-real date. With two really hot dudes, that Lance had been texting back and forth for a week with.

Nothing too crazy of course - couldn’t let everything out, or else what would be left for tonight? The highlights so far had been a half blurry picture of some coffee Shiro somehow burnt and a very well-centered, detailed image of the dark hair that trailed down from Keith’s belly-button and into his grey sweats. Lance had saved that, his thumb pressing too hard while he did it and his fist moving too fast over his dick when he jerked it.

His hands shook, probably from the cold, definitely not from the nerves. He shoved them in his olive jacket, the fabric a bit too thin for an autumn night but normally perfect when thrown over a hoodie...which was missing, because that was just too casual, right? Yeah, he was in college but he could clean up… sort of.

He glanced down at himself in doubt once more: blue button-up and his least ratty pair of jeans. Still wearing sneakers, but they were the good pair for special occasions. It was the best he had, really - well, the best for this sort of thing because Lance was not about to show up at Shay’s in his only suit. That would be weird, and then it would definitely smell like shitty beer after.

Another brisk breeze came and he huddled closer to the wall, cursing his choice to wait outside for them instead of claiming a booth inside. Wait - what if they were already inside? They hadn’t promised to text or anything, or call. They could be early, too... they could be waiting for him, even. Shit. He fidgeted again, pulling his phone back out and frowning at the screen with no new notifications. The night had not even started and already Lance could feel that tell-tale creep of anxiety start to ball up inside him.

The rattle of a car pulled his attention away, an old beat-up black pickup truck turning a bit too sharply into the tiny side lot and swerving recklessly around the barrier to park near perfect between the lines. The passenger door popped open first, the sound of the radio streaming out - some rough-voiced singer and melodic guitars, maybe something Lance’s dad would listen to - but then it was gone. Instead it was replaced with momentary silence, the truck’s engine dying, two doors snapping closed with cold metal, and the distinct lack of locking beeps as two figures made their way to the front of the bar where Lance was waiting.

“...told you to take it easy. She doesn’t turn like your bike. She’s old, Keith, treat her with a bit more respect.” Shiro’s voice broke through the air first, the scuff of work boots scraping the gravel parking lot and the soft clink of metal buckles ringing in Lance’s ears.

“Yeah, yeah, I can handle it fine. I know you get cranky when I touch what’s yours. Maybe…” a pause, the yellow glow of a cigarette and then a soft chuckle before Keith flicked what was left and stamped down on it with his own worn pair of leather boots.

“Well, well, waiting up for us, sweetheart? Out in the cold, too. That’s cute.”

It was fucking freezing out, but in that moment Lance felt like he was burning up, praying to whatever god was left listening in on this night that they couldn’t actually see the heat he felt shoot up his neck and cheeks.

“Y-yeah, you know. Gotta be a gentleman and all. Speaking of, first round’s on me - anything you like, minus that top shelf thirty bucks a shot shit. The coffee gig doesn’t rake in _that_ much.”

Lance did that thing, the nervous sweep through his hair, the goofy grin, the internal panic of _‘what the fuck did I just say why did my mouth keep making words okay just pretend you’re normal’_. He was doing that a lot lately and unfortunately it would only increase.

Shiro elbowed Keith before stepping forward in that same leather jacket, a different flannel underneath, worn jeans and smelling illegal somehow. God, how did he do that? _Stop staring._

“Lance, it’s good to see you again,” Shiro said. “You look cold, let’s go in - I have a favorite spot, cute girl at the front always manages to nab it for us.”

Before he could say anything, Keith reached out and grabbed at Lance’s arm, pulling him from his resting spot against the old brick exterior with more force than made sense for someone his size. Keith shoved him playfully, making him walk in front, acutely conscious that yeah, his ears were totally red and out in the open and shit, how did door handles work again?

Behind him, Keith inclined his head toward his husband, his voice purposefully just loud enough for someone else to hear. “You were right, I’ll buy your second round.”

Lance figured out how the door worked, and his hand totally didn’t shake when he did it.

 

* * *

 

“Yeah, and he just, like, stayed there? He fell asleep with a whole slice of pizza on his face, and it wasn’t even shitty pizza! He totally missed out. I’ve never seen someone that stoned before, and Hunk’s, like, a big dude - whatever it was knocked him the fuck out. Which is why I woke up in the tub in some girl’s bra and panties. I don’t think I talked to any girls that night so I’m not sure how... Man, I miss that t-shirt. Gone forever, I guess…”

They were working on their third round. Lance, as promised, bought the first. Drink orders were always weird - sometimes when you assumed someone as a beer dude, they weren’t. Sometimes that giant badass guy with the tattoos at the bar walked away with an appletini. Either way, he tried to be smooth without trying, and any time Lance _tried_ to not try, it was with mixed results.

Shiro had smiled at Lance’s order - “rum and coke, but, like, your shitty rum or whatever, I’m not a cultured man” - and Keith had just given him some weird look again, like he was trying to figure out what the fuck made Lance tick (an impossible feat). Their orders were more smooth: whiskey on the rocks, whatever beer was the two dollar special of the night. The normalcy was surprisingly welcome.

Shiro’s secret spot was granted somehow, the small party leaving as if it was custom; the table was tucked into a windowed alcove with a great view of the rest of the space. It wasn’t meant for loud, drunken arguments or half-hidden sloppy kisses. It was just quiet enough to be able to talk casually, just loud enough to have the pleasant hum of socialization and music reach so there were no awkward silences. Not that Lance ever had an issue with filling a space with his voice.

“Yeah? What color? They match? You got pics?” Keith grinned, nursing his third beer, sitting to the right of Lance, Shiro reclining on his left with an arm swung over the wooden top of the booth. He’d been hanging back a bit in the conversation’s flow, content to just watch them both bicker and jab at each other, swirling his whiskey slowly with a permanent lazy smile.

“Yeah, dude,” Lance said, gesturing enthusiastically, “whole photoshoot. Blue of course, and white lace. I looked real good. Shit ain’t free though, sorry. You gonna pay up?”

“Fuck yeah, I will. Shiro, gimme some cash.” Keith leaned forward, his grin spreading wider as he reached past Lance to lay his palm out.

Shiro shifted, hips lifting from the booth’s worn, cracked seat cushion, making a show of patting his back pocket where his wallet rested, rubbing holes into the denim edges. “Ah, that’s a shame. Looks like I’m all out. Maybe Lance will take a different payment?”

They were looking at each other now, unspoken communication lines buzzing, Lance stuck in the middle and suddenly very aware of how close they both were to him, how much extra space was left in the booth now compared to how they started. He told himself the hot feeling starting to spread was certainly the ‘don’t worry cutie, middle shelf just for you, no extra charge’ rum he’d just downed right before offering Keith that teasing lie of him in lacy blue and white.

“O-oh, I was just - I mean, we didn’t actually take any pictures, besides the one for blackmail, but it wasn’t, uh, hot or anything and…”

“Huh. Lying already? Unfortunate, especially since you would’ve liked my payment. Oh well.” Keith made to slide back in place, his hand retreating from hovering over the table. Instead, he stopped, grabbed Lance’s chin and tilted it towards himself, looked straight at the boy, the sound of a beer bottle and half-finished whiskey glass clinking on the table. “You think he deserves it anyway? Maybe we can get a promise for a personal viewing sometime. Better than pics, right, Shiro?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Shiro’s voice was much closer. It was right at his ear, spreading goosebumps across his forearms past Lance’s rolled up shirt sleeves, fingers tightening on his empty drink. He couldn’t speak, not that it mattered because there was nothing his mind could come up with to say right now. Nothing impressive or witty even tried to make its way past his lips. Lance sat there, aware of the fact that he was crowded in, aware that Keith was pressing closer, or maybe gripping his chin tighter to pull Lance towards him. It didn’t really matter - this was happening, and holy shit, it was the fucking best.

He didn’t stand a chance. His eyes closed before lips could press to his own, the slightest puff of air and barely-there chuckle.

“Yeah, just like that. Good boy,” Keith said. Shiro hummed in approval right next to Lance’s ear, and he suddenly felt overcrowded, too warm. Keith struck first, grabbing him rough and possessive as if he’d already claimed Lance as his. He tugged playfully, just far enough until he could see Lance trail after the motion, letting Lance show him that he wanted this touch, that it wasn’t forced upon him even if the movements were forceful. And Lance... Lance lost so easily, didn’t even try to push away or take any ounce of control back. His lips parted when Keith pressed further, tasted shitty beer and menthol, felt those fingers press harder until it was obvious that Lance’s breathing was off rhythm. This alone was enough to bulldoze right through anything Lance had scored here before, but it wasn’t just a sloppy, firm kiss. Below the table, another hand slid along the hem of his jeans, teased past his shirt to press at his lower back and hip. It wasn’t the same as the one gripping at his chin, it was wider and rougher and _god_ , Lance wasn’t going to make it through the night, not at this pace.

He must have whimpered or shifted without realizing because Keith broke it off first, gave a small parting lick along Lance’s bottom lip before sitting back and surveying the damage. Lance would have noticed his smug grin if his eyes had opened in that moment but they remained shut, a shaky breath pressing out as he felt Shiro’s hand curl around his hip, fingers slowly exploring until they reached the very edge of forming hair beneath his navel.

“‘Kay,” Keith said with cocky finality, “made up my mind, wanna take him home. Preferably now - the bathroom stalls won’t fit three.”

Shiro squeezed lightly and Lance finally came back from wherever he’d been floating, eyes landing on Keith but for the most part looking through him. It was taking a bit longer to process what just happened. What was still happening.

“Yeah. That sounds good. Lance?” This time it was Shiro pressing forward, but he wasn’t as demanding as Keith. It was an open invitation, an out if he wanted to leave. His hand even drifted away from warm skin but remained in place over Lance’s jeans, a sign that he was clearly interested - that they both were.

Because they were married. To each other. Both of them… and Lance, here, in the middle somehow. He’d won the jackpot, or this was some sick joke, or dream, or…

God, Shiro smelled so good. Lance couldn’t even fully turn to look at him - it was too dangerous. But Keith was equally dangerous with that fucking smirk, like he already knew what Lance would say.

“Only if I get shotgun on the way there.” Nice, he’d managed that without his voice cracking. Good job.

Keith snorted and pushed him toward Shiro. “Whatever you want, sweetheart, but you’ll be sitting on my lap.”

Lance swallowed his nerves down, Keith’s sickeningly sweet nickname making him feel something deep he’d rather not admit to, Shiro’s hand wrapping around one of his and tugging him out of the booth, what was left of their drinks long forgotten.

 

* * *

 

The truck ride home was muscle memory for Shiro, having driven the same path from Shay’s all the way up to where the roads turned from asphalt to dirt. As promised, Lance had shoved his bony ass into Keith’s lap even if the front bench seat could have fit them all somewhat comfortably. With three rum and cokes settled in him, he’d draped his arms around the other, slurred a messy “You smell nice but he smells nicer” and pressed his face against the warm spot where Keith’s neck and shoulder met. Keith and Shiro shared a look and then peeled out of the parking lot, Shiro’s hands on the steering wheel and one of Lance’s knees, Keith flicking ashes from his cigarette out of the small crack of open window, other hand stolen and pressed to Lance’s chest.

Lance jolted awake when the sound of the engine was gone and the darkness too thick to be Main Street or any part of campus. He tumbled out of Keith’s lap and landed on his feet on the gravel driveway, steadying himself and glaring at that black mess of hair.

Everything around them was thick woods, or at least Lance _thought_ it was, since it was near pitch black save for the moon above, a few days away from being full. In a moment of uncharacteristic clarity, he considered checking his phone signal - after all, he’d just drank a bunch, fell asleep for most of the ride, and was now about to enter someone’s cabin in the middle of a secluded forest.

At the end of the driveway, Shiro stood proudly on the front porch, illuminated by a couple of spotlights. Lance caught the outline of a wooden rocking chair and a sign nailed to one of the thick wooden beams of the porch, but it was too dark to read it.

“You built _all_ of it? This whole cabin? With your hands?”

“I did - slowly. That part on the far left, looks like a storage shed? Lived there while I built this. It took a lot longer than I expected, since I only had time after work and all.”

“Come on, s’cold out here,” Keith said. “Can’t see shit at night anyways. You can get the full tour tomorrow morning. If you can still walk, I mean.” He gave Lance a playful shove and Lance nearly stumbled into Shiro, whose hands were busy with unlocking the front door and flicking on the few soft lights that ran across an exposed beam high up near the ceiling.

Lance pouted. “Was that a sex joke? Are you implying something about my ass? Just because sometimes people say that I look like a twink doesn’t mean I always - holy shit.”

Lance’s voice stopped completely. Shiro stepped aside with a knowing smile and Keith closed the door behind them.

Impressive wasn’t really the word for it - more like _amazing..._ more like, Lance was currently imagining Shiro, all sweaty with a hammer in his hands, painstakingly putting together every detail, every piece of sealed pine, every stone in the fireplace. He could only see a fraction from here: a cozy couch, coffee table, a dining room that looked equally hand-built, and the very edge of probably a kitchen, but mostly Lance was staring straight at the full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, sectioned off by thick planks peaked to match the roof. He thought of the shitty single window back in his apartment, the one with the amazing view of the vinyl siding of the house next to it.

“You live here. You both live here, every day.”

“Yeah, married people usually live in a place together. You sure you’re in college? Probably should let us know if you’re like seventeen or something. I’m not makin’ that mistake again.”

“Keith, play nice. Besides, he got carded at Shay’s...” Shiro moved then in one smooth swoop, hand snaking around Lance’s waist and urging the boy to lean back, which he did without a hint of resistance.“I’d give you the full tour, but I think that can wait until later. Why don’t you make yourself at home?”

He sank back against that strong chest, felt Shiro’s scruff scratch against his cheek, let his low voice cool the little anxieties that tried to bubble up when faced with an unfamiliar place and sort-of-but-not-really strangers. Keith joined them, yanking Lance’s arms forward to lay them over his shoulders; two sets of hands were on him now, the larger pair pressing at the indents of his lower back, the smaller thumbing across the top of his jeans and making it obvious that the button was about to be popped. No one bothered with jackets or shoes.

“Shiro, start a fire, will you? I wanna play a little before I hand him over.” Keith’s voice was so close, loud in Lance’s ear. “Promise it’ll be good for you.”

“Leave some for me, I have plans for later.” Shiro went to move but paused, whispering against Lance’s other ear, although it wouldn’t have mattered if Keith heard or not. “You’ll be a good boy for Keith, won’t you? Wait for me.”

“Yes.” It came uneasy and nervous, his fingers gripping the leather of Keith’s back as his heart started to hammer in his chest. At some point his eyes had closed, a point Lance had no clue about because time apparently didn’t exist in this mountain cabin.

Lance felt Shiro’s smirk against his skin. “It’s ‘yes, Sir’ next time.”

The warm press of another body was gone, leaving Lance clinging only to Keith, swallowing as his mind worked over over the exchange. Calling someone “sir” wasn’t something he was entirely new to, at least not in terms of things to search for when normal porn got too boring. Lance had never had the chance though, especially not with someone like Shiro who _made_ you want to call him Sir. He wasn’t mean about it either, like some of those late night searches; he said nothing when Lance just stood there dumbly in Keith’s clutches.

“All mine now,” Keith murmured. “Let’s see if you’re as good as your nudes. You know how to suck cock? Well, guess I’ll find out, huh?”

“S-suck...yeah. I mean, I’m the best at it, really. You’ll be blown away, literally, I promise. It’s practically on my resume, I’ll get you a copy next ti…” Lance’s babbling was cut off, Keith forcing the sound to stop with his own mouth.  

Keith tugged him backward in a slow messy shuffle over to the couch, fingers still latched to the front of Lance’s jeans, their legs tangling. Somehow they made it, the couch creaking under their sudden weight, and Shiro chuckled softly as he fed logs into the hearth.

Lance moved to swing a leg over Keith’s lap but was halted by a strong grip at his thigh that slowly pushed up along the inside seam.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart, I wasn’t joking. On your knees.” Keith’s smile was predatory. “Think of it like an interview or whatever. Should have brought copies of that resume, huh?”

Now, Lance wasn’t a master at sloppy, drunk make-outs. More like that’s usually all he got, if anything. Perhaps a little dry humping here and there, if whoever he was on top of was feelin’ it. But this… demand, clear intent and confusing signals; whose pants were supposed to come off first?

“Wait - really? You don’t want to like, y’know, get to _know_ each other a little better? I don’t even know your favorite color!”

Keith’s answer came in the form of a rough pull, one hand fisted into the front of Lance’s shirt and the other hand squeezing a bit too hard at his ass.

“It’s red,” he growled. “Now shut up. I wanna see you earn Shiro’s attention. You can do that, can’t you? Or is it too much for you to handle? Dangerous to flirt like that if you can’t.”

Lance was too horny to be actually scared, but a nice wave of intimidation washed over him, enough that he looked away with a huff before gathering himself. He’d earn Shiro’s attention all right, and keep Keith’s while he was at it.

He met Keith’s gaze and shifted away, the hands on him slipping as he collapsed to the floor gracelessly but the end result was the same. Lance was kneeling between Keith’s wide stance, well-worn black jeans almost brushing his shoulders as he shrugged off his jacket; Keith followed suit soon after, chucking his along the top of the couch.

He reached for the front of Keith’s pants but got his hands swatted away, that half-smirk showing as the other reached for his own belt.

“Didn’t ask for permission to touch, did you? Shirt off while we’re at it.”

Lance rolled his eyes but complied, shirt yanked up and over, flung somewhere behind him before he leaned in closer and gave a very _not_ sarcastic “May I?”

With no warning, Keith reached out with one gloved hand and fisted it into brown locks, shoving Lance forward the rest of the way to press his nose against the forming hardness trapped in almost too tight jeans. “That’s your answer, sweetheart. Get to work.”

So yeah, Lance had choked on a few cocks before in his time. It wasn’t like he was bad at it, or that it was somehow new each time he encountered one. Maybe it was just something about his looks, or trim build, or maybe his charming smile? But damn, did every dude seem to want to shove down as far as they could into his throat and gag him until tears started to form. Lance took it as some weird compliment.

Keith was no exception. Lance’s normal tactics of teasing and slow starts were not appreciated: Keith let him get away with that for maybe thirty seconds before his grip tightened once more and he shoved Lance all the way down, earning a satisfying gag but no immediate struggle or pull back in return.

It was silly, then, not to pull out all his best work here, considering Keith was 100% the hottest dude he’d hooked up with in… well, maybe ever. The dull haze of rum still hummed in him as he made a show of licking a fat strip of spit from base to tip, darting his tongue into the slit to collect what Keith was already giving him. Lance swallowed it, cheeky grin plastered on his face before he dipped down again, focusing now with his eyes closed as he sank far enough to feel the tickle of coarse hair against his nose.

“Shit, you were...you weren’t kidding. Fuck, that’s good - yeah, like that. Look up, baby, I wanna see you.”

Lance obeyed, turning his eyes upwards to meet Keith’s dark stare, but stayed with his lips wrapped around the base of his cock until he felt the telltale reflex in his throat and tears began to well up. Slowly, he came back up just to do it again, never breaking their eye contact, making sure that Keith was aware of just how attentive and caring he could be, how he could kneel here all night and give the sort of worship that was so obviously wanted.

The air had been cool when they arrived, enough that Lance had felt the chill when he stripped his shirt off. Now, though, everything felt warm - Keith’s lap, the soft push of hot air behind him from the fire, and inside him, that intoxicating bleed of being wanted... the attention all on him.

It wasn’t long before tears of exertion were dripping off his chin, his lips messy and red from use, but he didn’t slow down. He wanted to show them how good he could be.

He dragged his lips all the way up Keith’s cock and sucked the tip before swallowing him down, pushing himself just past that comfort zone again. His soft, almost pained moan earned him a much gentler response this time - Keith pet through his hair, the roots starting to stick together with sweat as Lance worked himself over the lap in front of him, his eyes drifting closed at the pleasant feeling of fingers against his scalp.

“How is he? Enjoying yourself?”

Somehow, for however long he’d been choking himself willingly on Keith’s cock, Lance had forgotten about Shiro. His eyes snapped open, looking up to see that the older man was now dressed in only a dark grey tank top and fitted joggers, arms leaning against the back of the couch as he gazed down at Lance with an unfamiliar fondness and new interest.

“Yeah, he… he’s pretty - ahh, shit - he’s eager,” Keith said breathlessly. “I’m close, wanted to wait for you. Can I? Please? You can have him after, I promise. And me too.”

“Aw, begging already? That’s not like you, Keith. Feeling okay?" A knowing grin passed over the older man’s mouth. “Looks like someone got you all excited.”

The look on Keith’s face was what made this all worth it for Shiro, the mixed pleasure and stubbornness and then challenge blazing up.

Keith hissed in his self-control and swallowed down his pride just for a second.  “Fucking… shut up, Shiro, you fucker. Please - his mouth is too good, lemme have this. Whatever you want after, come on. He wants it too, Shiro. See?”

Keith licked his lips and glanced down at Lance before sinking his fingers deeper into the other boy’s hair, tugging harshly to get him to press back down all the way, earning a wonderful muffled moan as he swallowed around the length, fingers pushing hard against Keith’s leg but no signs of him wanting anything else than the treatment he was already getting. Keith didn’t need to look up to know - he heard the quiet _‘fuck’_ Shiro muttered under his breath and then fingers gliding through his own dark locks to pet in a particular way that Keith knew meant it was time.

A deep voice whispered close to his ear, just barely loud enough that both of them would hear it.

“Go ahead then, show me. Make sure he swallows it all.”

It wasn’t like porn.

That tiny thought drifted through Lance’s brain and then promptly disappeared when he felt Keith’s grip tighten, watched his eyebrows scrunch together and the air fill his lungs. Keith threw his head back against the couch cushion with Shiro’s hand in his black hair in a far more soft gesture than the moment seemed to call for, and Shiro’s own stare was on Lance - still unreadable but very focused on Lance and what was happening.

In porn there were lots of action shots, lots of clear build-up and camera angles and everyone making lots of attractive sounds. None of that happened here. It was just Keith letting go, it was just Shiro watching, waiting for something somehow, and it was Lance, drifting, his cheeks wet with tears, unable to push his head back from Keith’s deadlock grip.

Keith must have been waiting for Shiro’s permission for a while, because he came deep down Lance’s throat without moving. His voice was lost and replaced with harsh breaths until the very end when he exhaled an almost pained groan as his thighs shook. Lance swallowed it all, then pressed his head back against Keith’s fingers when there was nothing left to swallow.

One of Shiro’s hands drifted down Keith’s torso reverently, while the other tilted their faces together to whisper things Lance couldn’t hear, Shiro pressing his lips over what was his and stealing away the whimpers of aftershock that wanted to spill out.

Lance slipped out of Keith’s lap to move back, but Keith caught him and pulled him to rest against one of his thighs. It felt… different. Oddly intimate, considering what he’d just done to a married man with his _husband_ right there watching. A strange and abrupt sense of intrusion washed over him, like suddenly this wasn’t a good idea, suddenly he should go back to campus, because what was he doing? These two were married, they didn’t need someone else, they didn’t need him to be here in the warmth of their home and -

“Good boy, Lance.” Another hand, this one larger and less urgent, brushed softly through Lance’s sweaty hair and Shiro murmured, “Would you like to come to bed with us?”

Lance looked up to see Shiro smiling, and Keith eyeing him with a smug smirk, although it was ruined by the way he looked totally and completely spent. (He’d file that accomplishment away somewhere for later.)

And yet, he had to ask - just one more time, just because insecurity still lingered and no attractive smile from anyone could stamp it out.

“...Are you sure? I mean, I’m... this is great, I feel really… it’s just, I don’t want to intrude, you know? Like, it’s okay if we stop here. I won’t complain much - I mean, later on I will, but like…”

“Lance, shut up. I dunno how you can still think that much after what you swallowed at the bar and on your knees.” Keith’s voice was hoarse, but his resolve was clear. “Do you need a fuckin’ written invitation? We don’t do this shit all the time, so answer. We already decided - wouldn’t ask if we didn’t.”

They were both looking at Lance expectantly, but Shiro’s voice was a hell of a lot more reassuring.

“If you’re uncomfortable with it, that’s okay too, Lance. I won’t push, but we would love for you to -”

Lance made up his mind.

“Yes. Please. I really, really would like to see your bed, like with both of you in it, in a not creepy way. Gotta make sure your thread count’s up to par, obviously… so… We... we can go do that, now?” Lance rambled, fully aware that he’d been laying against Keith’s thigh too long and his zipper was still undone and Lance’s knees were starting to cramp and did this really need any more conversation?

He _came_ here for this. He wanted this, daydreamed about what Shiro’s abs looked like and what kinds of mean things Keith would say under the sheets.

Shiro’s hand slid down from Lance’s head, thumb brushing against his ear before coming to rest atop Lance’s fingers still pressed into Keith’s leg.

“We can go do that now. Come on, I’ll help you up.”

 

* * *

 

 Lance only had a few moments to notice a few key things about Shiro and Keith’s bedroom. The first was the far wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, giving him a wonderful three-second view of dark woods and sky. The second was that the giant fireplace in the center of the house was, in fact, double-sided and now the only source of light in the bedroom. It blazed strong, casting orange light and bouncing shadows across the sweep of ruffled blankets and thick, hand-carved pine bedposts. The rest of the room, however, would remain a mystery - not enough time to poke around and find all the tiny personal details he wanted to burn into memory because, before he could protest, Shiro hefted him off his ridiculously well-muscled shoulder and deposited him onto said blankets.

It was comforting when he picked Lance up like he weighed nothing, Keith following behind and ruffling his hair. Like they had done this before, like it was already an old inside joke.

Two seconds passed from Lance landing on top of the bed and then Keith attacking him once more. He attempted to sit up but Keith had other plans, planted a gloved hand at the middle of his chest and pressed him back down. Considering it was Shiro that first caught his eye, that flirted (at least Lance thought he was flirting) back, and Keith being so….prickly, it was a surprise now to have the other boy so fervently pressed against him, demanding his mouth once more, not caring that Shiro stood and watched.

But maybe that’s what this was? Maybe Shiro knew all along, maybe he’d been looking _for_ Keith, and Lance just fell into their trap, left to squirm under his binds and apparently suffocate from his breath being stolen away.

The experiences Lance had collected from previous hook-ups, the small moments he got to share with others, the tiny amount of expertise and control - all of that was out the window the second Keith loomed over him, forcibly removed both jeans and boxers and bent down, whispering exactly what could crack the resolve of someone like Lance.

“Shiro wants your ass, and I’m gonna help you out with that. Trust me, you’ll need it. I still do.”

Keith was two fingers deep, Lance flat on his back and fisting some reasonable thread count bedsheets and trying not to make an embarrassed mess of himself, but it was a bit too late for that. Keith was at his side, jeans still unbuttoned, leaning on one arm and staring so intently that Lance had to keep his eyes closed. He breathed against a pillow that smelled like Shiro, tried so very hard to muffle the shameful huffs that wanted to come, like Keith would somehow win if he did. 

Keith was slow and careful, so different than how he shoved down Lance’s throat on the couch, fingers pressing and gliding with more than enough lube.

“Shit, shit, ok - st... fuck, fuck yes, oh my god, don’t... don’t stop.”

“Yeah? You like that, sweetheart, like me opening you up for him?”

“Good,” Shiro said from the edge of the bed. “He looks good like that. Add another finger, Keith, you know how many it takes for me.”

He’d die here tonight, probably, tangled in the sheets of a married couple he’d met like two weeks ago. That was okay though - it was a good way to go, according to Lance.

For a long stretch of time it was oddly quiet - just the crack of logs burning, Keith’s fingers, and Lance’s inhales. A few beats before it switched from quiet to awkward, there was a shift of clothing against the bedside and Shiro bent over Lance, wearing a satisfied grin paired with a gentle slide of fingers against Lance’s calves all the way up to his open thighs.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, Lance? Keith working you open for me?”

It could be a dream. Maybe full detail of some ridiculous fancy mountain cabin was a little much, but the rest of it, sure. Certainly the sort of dream where Lance wakes up with an unfortunate boner.

Shiro was waiting, fingertips pressing against the insides of his thighs, eyes darting to watch Keith’s fingers slide out slowly and then sink deep in just once before he looked back to Lance.

Those fingers inside him crooked just a tiny bit, pulling a whimper from him, and Lance shifted to push back. He wanted to sink deeper, wanted to feel Shiro’s fingers harder against his skin.

“...Y-yes...” His eyes fluttered closed when the roll of pleasure worked over him, and he opened them again to see Shiro still there, an eyebrow tilted, waiting for something more. “Ah, I - Yes… Sir. It’s… shit… please, you’re so slow, Keith, come on…”

“He wants more, Shiro. Should I? He’d been pretty good so far.” Keith punctuated his point by withdrawing his fingers completely, his smug grin spreading when Lance whined in protest and his body naturally chased after what it had lost.

An approving hum came from the bed’s edge, Shiro’s hands sliding further until they grazed against tanned hip bones, his forearm bumping against Keith’s.

“He has been. Lance - do you like being good for us? Not just me, Keith too.”

Yeah, they really were trying to kill him, probably. How anyone could say that shit, with that voice and that _look_ , so natural and serious? Did he know? Did _they_ know how unbearable this all was? How delighted and overwhelmed Lance felt just from the attention, and the meaning behind it? He wanted more - like Keith had been before. More rough, more demanding. Just _more_. Pride wasn’t a problem any longer, Lance didn’t want to wait for their getting-to-know-you tease.

“I wanna be good, I can be _so_ good, please let me. I’m ready. I was ready, like, in the bar. God, I would have sucked you both off in that shitty, dirty bathroom, I don’t care. Can we just… please…”

Although not proper, Lance’s begging was enough to prompt Shiro and enough to make Keith press against his side, not so innocently grinding his lap against a skinny thigh and cracking a bit of that tough exterior.

Keith’s lips brushed a patch of exposed neck, teasing with his teeth first and then a suggestive lick and chuckle that somehow went straight to Lance’s dick, which, yes, was exceptionally attentive since being tossed onto the bed. “Yeah, Shiro, c’mon, don’t gotta be gentle anymore, he can take it... can’t you, Lance?”

He smiled and arched his neck invitingly as he stared between the both of them, a swell of nervous confidence blooming. “Yeah, I can take it, alright. I can take _both_ of you.”

Lance said a lot of things, all the time, that weren’t really true, particularly when it came to himself. A few exaggerated stories once in a while, maybe some really cool skill that he didn’t actually have, a few relationships that never happened in high school... the list could go on. Other times he just said shit without thinking, or was unwilling to back down from a challenge, or worse - both. This was one of those times.

Keith settled in along Lance’s side, now more interested in teasing the life out of him instead of prepping him for Shiro. His hand trailed aimlessly, running over Lance’s navel, brushing across his nipples for just a moment but never actually staying in one place long enough to be satisfying. Lance squirmed, missing the fullness of those fingers inside him instantly, and prayed to as many gods as he could remember when Shiro moved into position between his eager, open legs.

He chased the fleeting feeling of confidence, believing that his body wouldn’t give out before he could take the both of them because it would be so embarrassing if he passed out right here, right before he was about to get the biggest dick he’d seen in his life up his ass. Unfortunately, Lance wasn’t fully prepared for just how devious they were, especially when working together for a common goal. It was near shameful how fast he fell to begging, just with the smallest hot touch of Shiro’s cock against his hole.

 _Underestimated_ wasn’t the right word. _Overwhelmed_ also didn’t fully encompass all that was happening. It was torture - nothing actually hurt, but the pleasure was so loud and demanding, his grip on the situation and all of the things he’d considered about himself and what he could handle... well, Shiro looked determined to fuck that out of him.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you, sweetheart,” Keith taunted. “Say it again. Louder.”

“Pl...please. I already - I already said it. I’m going to die if you keep…”

His head was forced back, one of Keith’s hands leaving the rough grip on his wrists to pull at the short brown locks. Keith bent down, eyes tracing the delightful image of Lance’s eyebrows pushed together in pain, the small wobble of his lips pressed tight as he tried not to make a sound.

“Say it again,” Keith murmured slowly. “Do you want him to stop? He doesn’t have to fuck you, y’know. We could tie you to the bedpost, make you watch Shiro fuck me instead. How’s that sound, Sir?”

Shiro’s voice was sharp. “Sounds like you better watch your mouth, boy. I know your games. Don’t get jealous when he’s right here for both of us to take.”

The soft sound of Keith’s moody little _tsk_ was lost on Lance because all he could hear at the moment was his own internal freakout.

“Oh my god, I’m... I...” Lance was positioned perfectly, his head in Keith’s lap, his arms locked above him in Keith’s loose grip. He didn’t bother to struggle because he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world, especially now that Shiro had slid between his legs, pulled Lance close to the edge of the bed and stood before him, stroking himself while he rubbed firm circles into the boy’s hip.

Just one glance, a shy look first to Shiro, unable to meet his eyes, and an embarrassing exhale as he took in the sight of him. His strong hands, the sheer size of them; the way his tight tank top stayed bunched up over his chest and how the dim firelight played over his muscles. For the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, Lance questioned if this was real, if he’d truly been so blessed, or if something was wrong with both of them to want to invite someone like him into their bedroom.

Another sharp yank to his hair from Keith and he whined again; Shiro pressed forward enough to make him feel it, just the very beginning, just a tease of what was about to come, and then he stopped.

“Please...” It came quietly in the soft space they all shared, the distant red outline of alarm clock numbers too far to read, the fire less intense than it had been when they started. “Please fuck me. Please, Sir.”

Lance could feel the telltale heat of shame across his cheeks, lied to himself that it was just too warm in the tangle of sheets and Keith’s body heat.

The possessive circles pressed into his hip stopped and Shiro’s palm drifted to grip along Lance’s thigh, brushing over the goosebumps there as he steadied himself. He gave a pleased smile before pushing forward into the tight heat he’d been teasing.

“That's my good boy. You’ll take all of me and thank me after.”

Lance didn’t know how long he’d been like this, face pressed against Keith’s inner thigh, the thin layer of boxer briefs wet with his tears. His long fingers scrambled to hold something, anything, Keith’s hands busy petting through his damp hair and stroking the long line from Lance’s ear to his collarbone.

All attempts at composure were long gone, his desperate, whimpered moans and half choked cries flowed through the cabin, urging Shiro to thrust deeper and harder. Lance was a mess, the divot of his lower back sticking to the sheets, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the heat between all of them and Shiro’s own gruff voice.

“Just... just like that, good... shit, you’re good. Such a good boy for me, Lance.”

He was burning. Burning so hot, unaware that it was a chilly autumn night because it felt like summer did, when he tossed and turned in his own bed because he couldn’t cool off. Neither of them had touched him where he wanted it most, where his need was so _obvious_ , and he didn’t dare try himself. He couldn’t reach his dick like this, knew that the moment he shifted Keith would lock his arms. The idea of it came and went and he resolved himself instead to suffering, pressing his lips into Keith’s skin while they both teased him, his hips bucking in short bursts as if to pull their attention to his leaking cock.

“Look at you,” Keith said, “you’re a wreck. I’ve never seen someone leak so much. You like it, don’t you, sweetheart? You wanna be ours. Next time, it’s my turn - gonna make you ride me while you suck Shiro off.”

Shiro apparently liked this idea because a moment after Keith’s declaration, he shifted forward, bent Lance in half so that the tops of his skinny thighs pressed against Shiro’s ribs.

“Fuck yeah, he’d...look good like that.” Shiro snapped his hips forward hard enough to drag a heaving groan out of both of them. “Full from both ends, how he should be.”

The lewd banter made it so much worse - Lance couldn’t imagine himself any more embarrassed than he was now, but it came paired with an intoxicating feeling of being wanted, the center of their attention, two pairs of eyes burning into him as he took Shiro’s full length. He stopped gripping the sides of Keith’s sweat-sticky boxers and finally just let himself lay there. 

Keith was right: he did want to be theirs. He wanted to be like this in any and every capacity, pressed between them, pleasing their every demand until he couldn’t move any longer.

“...Please. I want…” Lance choked, unfamiliar emotions spilling forth now that all of his barriers had been smashed. “I want that, want us… I’m…”

He told himself it was the three rum and cokes, and not the way he’d laid in Keith’s lap on the drive home, or how Shiro looked at him in a way no one else ever had. A fondness, an excitement to share with his husband, the small sparks that came with touching skin that hadn’t been caressed thousands of times before. Small, subtle tears of exertion had already crept their way out, Lance’s lean form slender and flexible but unused to the attention. It’d been a long time since he’d done this with anyone. More tears came now, but these were different, and he tried to hide away against Keith. He didn’t want to ruin the good mood that was going.

Strong hands shifted away from his bent knees, reaching up to tilt Lance’s chin forward as Shiro rearranged himself between long legs. Another set of fingers pet through his hair still, both of them slowing to an easy pace.

“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re doing so well, Lance, so good for us. It’s okay to let go.”

Before Lance could say anything, lips pressed against his own, a different pair this time, not belonging to Keith. It shocked him - all night he’d felt more at ease with the one closer to his age, only reacting and giving himself when Shiro initiated. There was some sort of tension that lingered from the first time they’d met, and something else about Shiro that made Lance hold back. But it was gone now, driven away by the lick at the seam of his lips, the slow press forward of hips and mouth, the gentle way Shiro cupped his jaw.

The feeling of being overwhelmed morphed into something else, something bolder, like it didn’t matter what the rules were. It didn’t matter they were married, it didn’t matter how Shiro’s scruff scratched uncomfortably against Lance’s chin or that Keith’s legs were surely falling asleep under Lance’s weight. They were here now, and they wanted him.

Lance’s desperate grasp against Keith’s sides turned possessive, and he let himself sink as Shiro claimed his mouth, and the rest of him too.

Lance’s length was locked between them against the hard wall of Shiro’s abs, sliding through the mess of sweat and precum, working him up easily paired with the steady rhythm of Shiro’s hips. He couldn’t even beg if he wanted to - Shiro wouldn’t let him escape, pinned him harder when he opened his mouth to speak. One of Shiro’s hands gripped the nape of Lance’s neck and the other moved behind his head to thumb over the dark spot at the front of Keith’s boxers.

All it took was Keith’s half-choked voice and Shiro’s pleased groan and Lance was gone.

A sob broke out of him, muffled by Shiro’s lips, and a tremble washed over Lance’s body as he fervently rutted his hips to chase the friction and pleasure. Shiro encouraged him, pressing kisses and nips along his jawline, an affectionate chuckle rumbling against his throat as Lance gasped and shook through his orgasm.

Keith’s voice was the first to break the silence, his amusement obvious. “Fuck - you didn’t even touch him. Hell, _I_ didn’t even touch him.”

“We did tease him a fair amount. I suppose he’s earned it,” Shiro said, humming in approval. “He earned this, too.”

Shiro lifted himself up on his arms and Keith uncrossed his legs from beneath Lance’s head, letting him slide down to the sheets.

Keith thumbed the front of his boxers down, the head of his cock inches from Lance’s face. He moved to wrap his fingers around himself but stopped short, watching instead as Lance stretched towards him, bumping his nose against it eagerly where he could reach. Keith tilted his hips forward, teasing, and Lance licked his lips when he was close enough to feel him, hard and warm, against his cheek.

Breathlessly, Lance said to Shiro, “Earn what?”

Shiro had been holding out, enjoying the experience of carefully ravaging Lance and watching him fall apart. Now he began to fuck Lance hard enough to rattle their sturdy bed.

“Oh, fuck - god, _yes_ ,” Lance gasped, voice sloppy and desperate.

Shiro moved with intensity, the room filled with the sound of slick skin and loud groans. Keith jerked himself in time to Shiro’s urgent thrusts, grinning down at Lance when the other looked up at him in a haze.

He couldn’t do anything other than take it, his own climax leaving him boneless, his body caged in by both of them as they took their own pleasure. Lance was sweaty, sticking to everything, exhausted and overwhelmed, his face a mess of tears and the sounds coming from him now downright shameful but, god, did he love it.

Keith came first with a low growl, cum running over his knuckles. Shiro glanced up to see the devious smirk on his husband’s face as he went to shove his messy fingers toward Lance, his expression shifting to surprise as Lance arched up to meet him. His lips pressed against Keith’s fingers, licking away what he could reach and grinning as he heard Shiro curse under his breath.

Shiro watched intently as Keith fed Lance more of his cum, and the sight of Lance’s pink tongue eagerly lapping and swallowing his gift was enough to finally drive him over the edge. With a loud groan and a last set of deep, penetrating thrusts, Shiro came, cock twitching as he emptied himself inside Lance.

Beneath him, Lance squirmed and keened at the feeling of being filled so completely.

Shiro’s shoulders sunk as his orgasm wound down and pulled out of Lance slowly so he could see the mess he’d made, unable to hold back the proud hum in the back of his throat as he watched the boy’s muscles clench, cum seeping from his hole - prompting Shiro to teasingly thumb it back in. Lance jolted and groaned, still sucking Keith’s fingers even though there was nothing left to clean up.

Slowly, the progression from intense, primal filth melted into content comfort and for a long while they sprawled together - Keith leaning back on his forearms once Lance had cleaned him all off, Shiro’s forehead pressed against Lance’s shoulder, the only sound being the dying, crackling fire and their jagged breaths.

“So, uh,” Lance croaked, “it’s a little late to ask but can I sleep over or...?”

He felt the grin against his shoulder and then Shiro’s body shook as he laughed, Keith giving an exaggerated sigh before ruffling Lance’s hair.

“Yeah, I guess you earned your stay, but it’s Shiro’s final word. Maybe he’ll make you sleep on the floor.”

Shiro lifted himself up off Lance, biceps flexing and covered in a sheen of sweat. “Mm, maybe another time. Didn’t feel like pulling out all the toys, just wanted this.” He looked at them both like he was considering for a moment, and then broke into a fond grin, thumb reaching to wipe the last remains of Lance’s tears. “Of course you can stay.”

Lance tried to insist that he didn’t need to be right in the middle as they cleaned up and settled, tried to say the couch would be fine, that the bed wasn’t big enough (it was), or that he snores really loudly (he didn’t). In the end, however, they won; he laid between them, Keith slotted behind his back with arms wrapped around his waist, Shiro a little further away but still close enough to wrap his warm palm around one of Lance’s own.

Lance still sucked at making latte art, and his credit card was near maxed because of school, but in that very moment, everything was okay.

The string of events that brought him to this moment seemed so unrealistic and yet here he was, sandwiched between two of his favorite new people. He glanced one last time to the bank of windows, realizing that the dark of the trees no longer blended seamlessly with the dark of the sky. He drifted off after, his last few flickering thoughts of morning coffee and shared showers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Well - here we go, some more of...whatever this is! Fair warning: this has not been beta-ed so please let me know if something is terribly, terribly wrong, grammatically or otherwise. 
> 
> None of this is in order either, but it is all after the first chapter, after the initial hookup, but the scenes are just...seasons, as I felt like writing them, because I guess that is how writing works my friends.
> 
> There is a lot more of their personalities here- a lot more growth and how they all fit together.
> 
> I'm currently writing the next part also! Which will mostly be dirty, dirty smut, if all goes as planned.
> 
> A song is in here too, because I had to I guess. If you are curious:  
> [ Alice in Chains - Got Me Wrong ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fzM_jNFHVRU)

“Wait, really? You’re telling me neither of you….like not even...what.”

It dangled between long fingers, the lighter hovering inches away in his other hand. Lance’s beaten up blue tin box sat on the low table before them, a lone candle the only source of light, it’s flames shifting with the cool early summer breeze. It was still open - the telltale orange zig-zag front, dust of past joints he’d rolled and a few shitty matches for just in case.

Hunk had gone home for the summer but clapped Lance on the back and snuck a rather large bag into his ratty olive jacket. “For when your classes get rough, or those dudes you’re banging.” He didn’t even ask for payment, just grinned at his friend and told him to call once in a while, and to not burn down the apartment. What a guy.

“Honestly, teasing you about it’s way more fun. I can get that from at least three guys at the shop, probably better shit than whatever your friend grew in his closet.” Keith took another drag of his favorite type of relaxer, the famous post-sex cigarette before he leaned forward to stub the end out in the ashtray next to the candle.

“Shiro? Not even you? Not ever? Come on, you can’t tell me….” A lazy grin slid over the older man’s face before he knocked back another swig of beer, shifting his bare feet to the table and pulling up the old, frayed blanket they’d dragged from the couch to the outside.

“Mm. Let’s see, not since my job before - so maybe five, six years? Sorry sweetheart, whiskey’s my go-to.”

Lance was pouting now, his genius plan to treat his boyfriends who were married but totally dating him seeming less spectacular and more lame. “See, now you’re just making me look like a stereotype, of course kids in college smoke weed and then you grow out of it and whatever…”

“Yeah? Wanna switch to that one instead of ‘all twinks love to beg for cock up their asses’? Currently, you’re doing a great job at dispelling both of those.” The half snort and sound of Shiro’s beer bottle hitting the edge of the bench came before Lance could reply to Keith’s comment and he could do nothing but take the abuse, his pout turning into a low whine before letting his hands collapse to his lap.

“Both of you are the worst, you know that right? I bet that's how you found each other, you just walked up and shook hands and were like, ‘Hey! I’m an asshole wanna get married?’ And I didn’t beg, I politely requested that cock up my ass, thank you very much.” That earned low chuckles from both sides and Lance could only sink so far in his place between them, the warm laughter infectious in a way that made it impossible to stop the slow spread of a smile.

It was summer, late June to be exact and Lance had struggled with the idea of taking classes. They were cheaper like this; he could graduate earlier, but due to the decrease in allotted time they were faster paced and more demanding. When the owner of the coffee shop offhandedly mentioned he could use a near full-time employee to cover the front (and that Lance could do his homework when it lulled, which it did often in summer since all the college kids left), it was hard to say no. He was nervous to mention the fact to either of them, but instead of questions all he got was an “Ok nerd.” and a “Do you need a place to stay?”.

It was tempting, but in the end, Lance declined. Half of his roommates were staying and the landlord dropped the summer rent prices enough to make it worth the proximity to his work and classes. It was possible he wasn’t exactly ready for that jump either, despite Shiro offering it easily. What he had going was good and part of him didn’t want to disrupt it, or their lives in such a big way. Shiro’s cabin was something special as well - a safe haven and every time the older man picked him up after work to shake down the dirt road in his old truck Lance could feel the stress of the day seep out of him. In his own way, he was being selfish about it, but neither of them pushed when he said no.

Fingers pressing against his own pulled him out of his thoughts. Keith stole his supplies easily, the flick of the lighter and the familiar burn seeming so natural despite both of them never indulging in front of Lance, tucked together on Shiro’s porch under the stars. He’d seen Keith’s particular concentrated gaze hundreds of times now as he lit up the end of his own cigarettes, but never from something that was Lance’s, never something that mixed his memories of Hunk laughing on top of his couch at 2 AM, telling him to play the same six-second video of a cat eating shit as it tried to jump over a gate.

Keith inhaled and passed it across Lance, catching his gaze drifting to watch Shiro press the end to his lips and take his own drag, slower and more careful than Keith did.

“Really? You’re just going to make fun of me and then steal all my weed? I don’t deserve this! I was good all night, Keith- I literally had your balls in my mouth, come on.”

It worked - the exhale that came broke at the end, rushed out with a sputter and laugh and accompanying coughs as Keith tried to recover. Lance grinned in his victory, too smug to catch the movement to his right until it was too late; Shiro had somehow been unfazed. The grip at his chin was an ever-welcome demand and Lance turned into it, but wasn’t prepared as Shiro pressed his lips over Lance’s own, fingers tightening until they parted and the slow and easy drag Shiro took emptied completely into Lance’s mouth.

He could feel Keith’s eyes on them and let his own drift closed, felt as Shiro licked gently at the bottom of his lip before pulling away and settling back, taking another drag and this time keeping it for himself. Lance sunk down further into the back cushion, grinning as he exhaled and squirreled his hands beneath the blanket, already feeling a wave of pleasant warmth start to spread.

“You didn’t seem to fuckin’ mind. You looked so damn slutty, wanted to take a picture but then I realized I didn’t want a picture of my own balls on my phone.” Keith’s answer was notedly late and this time both Lance and Shiro laughed, passing the half gone joint back to Keith with a grin.

“Dunno about that, would have made a nice lock screen - it’s not like everyone at the shop doesn’t already know given your current choice of photo.” Shiro’s voice came out rougher as he pulled another swig of beer, smiling to himself as Keith flipped him off with one hand while he sucked in another inhale. Lance pulled his hands back up from the warmth of their shared blanket, snatching what was left from Keith’s fingers and trying to mental math the fact that both of his boyfriends had had more than him already.

“What is it? Probably just like, your boner sitting on top of your bike right?” This time Lance pulled harder, slow and deep like how Hunk had shown him after the very first time he failed at consuming something less than innocent. It was easy now, both from practice and the swell of comfort that seemed to drag itself over the three of them, the pauses between words far from awkward.

It’s what Lance wanted to give them in the first place; payment for all the times he came up to the cabin and felt good and safe.

“Naw, but that's a good idea. Shiro, lemme know when Lance’s shitty phone isn’t glued to his hand, won’t take too long - I get boners riding all the time.” Lance almost lost it on his second inhale, the paper burning close near his fingertips but recovered with only one cough before leaning forward to the table and killing the last lingering embers.

“Of course you do, I’d be surprised if you didn’t jerk off over it, surprised the paint still nice and….” A hand wrapped easily around Lance’s neck, tugging sloppily and causing him to stop mid-sentence.

“God, you’re mouthy tonight, thought you’d shut up after you got nice and warm for us.” Keith leaned in, enjoying the fact that Lance was so predictable, still somehow caught off guard no matter how many times he demanded attention from the other like this. Fingers pressed against drying lips, the lingering scent of chain-smoked cigarettes along with it, something that Lance would never admit to liking because in the back of his mind he told himself it was weird. The same sort of weird that crossed in his thoughts when he smudged a stray patch of oil over Keith’s collar after work or the times he stole deep inhales of a shirt Shiro just tossed in the hamper.

Lance leaned into the press now, his bouts of easy shyness few and far between with them. Keith knew just how to play him and Lance crumbled every time. Sometimes the fight would last longer but not like this, currently incapacitated in more ways than one and fuck, Keith was so warm.

“Thought you liked my mouth.” He mumbled against the fingers still there, fighting the grin that wanted to spread as he teased Keith at his own game, waiting for the other to snap and shove his dirty fingers into the mouth he knew would suck them down every single time.

The moment never came, however. Instead, they missed the small sound of shuffling as Shiro carefully pulled his phone from back pocket, taking a little longer than usual to unlock and squinting to himself as he tried to find what he wanted to destroy Keith with. He said nothing as he pushed the almost too bright triangle in front of them, waiting for the moment they both figured out what it was.

Keith knew of course. He knew it better than anyone else, had it practically burned into the back of his eyes with how many times he’d looked at it. What displayed before him once more, what Lance had never seen once in his life, what he texted to Shiro outside of their group chat because the possibility of Lance finding out seemed too heavy and too embarrassing to explain.

It was just them, curled into the disarray of sheets and pillows that happened every time Lance spent the night. Shiro was on his side, his glance up at the camera unexpected but his smile genuine, one arm curled over Lance’s shoulder. Messy brown hair and just a sliver of skin showed, the rest of Lance’s face hidden over Shiro’s muscles, the moment of him fast asleep with his face pressed against a warm chest captured forever. Keith had taken it three weeks after they met, the first time Lance didn’t wake up before them to try to cook breakfast. The first time he caught Shiro looking at the other in the same particular way Keith always caught him looking at him.

For a moment they were silent together, all staring at Shiro’s phone in the darkness, surrounded only by the irregular song of crickets and wind through pine trees.

Lance pulled the fingers frozen at his lips up, pressing a soft kiss in the middle of Keith’s palm as he rubbed his thumb along the backside of his hand.

“Keith….” He turned, dragging the hand down to his lap and tugging Shiro’s wrist as well in his other hand, the screen dying out to black leaving only the light of the candle.

“....You didn’t tell me you were gay.” Lance said it in the exact same voice he would have proclaimed his love, gentle and full of intent.

For a moment Keith looked vulnerable - a split second, maybe the same split second it took for Shiro to form his delayed frown after comprehending what was just said. The next moment Shiro was groaning and leaning back, pressing what was left of his beer bottle to his forehead as if that would help the threat of a headache. Keith had somehow gotten his fingers back up to Lance’s mouth, this time purposely shoving them as far down as he could while the other floundered to tug them away.

  
“You motherfuckin, I’m not kissing you ever again. The only thing that goes in here is my dick and these fingers and maybe my underwear because nothing good ever comes out of this hole. I’m gonna take a shit in your shoes, and then take a picture, and then make that your fucking lock screen and your background and your stupid facebook picture or whatever the fuck else you do on that stupid expensive brick.”

Shiro let them have at it until Lance’s sputtering turned into a weird mix of gagging and laughing, Keith overcompensating for his embarrassment in the only way he really knew how; torturing their shared boyfriend.

“Alright, Keith - that’s enough. I’m too high to deal with either of you and Lance can’t apologize if he’s busy throwing up on your hand.” Shiro dragged his feet back down to the porch, shifting like he was about to get up or pull Keith’s fingers out of Lance himself but decided against it at the last moment, realizing that maybe standing wasn’t so great and that the blanket tucked across all of them was still too nice and comfortable.

The deep old man groan as he settled back to the bench was what truly stopped Keith; no amount of Lance’s gagging would ever make him pause what he wanted to do. He slipped his fingers out and wiped them across a protesting cheek before settling back and accompanying Shiro’s groan with his own.

“Lucky Shiro’s around - probably would have murdered you months ago.” The familiar shake of a cigarette pack filled the air, Keith stealing Lance’s old, beat up lighter before chucking it back to the table. “What, no snarky comment? Gunna pout the rest of the night like a…”

“Lemme see it again.”

Without warning or any real care, Lance scrunched up their shared blanket, stretching his body out across them, legs dangling off the edge as Keith wordlessly moved his hands to make space. Shiro swallowed back the last of his beer as messy brown locks pressed down against one of his work out shorts-clad thighs. The blanket slipped to the wooden planks beneath them, Lance decidedly too warm and much too high to give a shit.

It took approximately ten seconds longer for Shiro to figure out his lock screen before he dropped the phone back to Lance’s chest, freeing his hands to instead dive into the mess of hair at his lap with a satisfied hum. Keith still said nothing of the discovery, seemingly intent to stare forward into nothingness as he pulled deep, lazy inhales.

He always did this, almost every time. It was an automatic reaction; humor to cover whatever wasn’t expected or whatever felt overwhelming. Lance hadn’t expected that picture to exist in the first place, and to know Keith purposely chose it for his lock screen...

It was just…a lot.

Fingers slid along the phone’s case, thumb drifting over the small crack in the corner, the edges worn and dented from Shiro dropping it at least once a week.

He wasn’t good with emotions. They were complicated enough with one person, they could change from one day to the next. They left you too vulnerable to be safe, too open in case something wanted to come and step all over them. For a long time, Lance struggled with belonging here, wedged and sprawled across two people that already loved each other and already had a life settled.

And sometimes it was hard to read; being so comfortable in certain ways didn’t always mean that comfort bled into everything. They’d proven Lance wrong though, almost every step of the way, every time he tripped up the steps or felt like he needed to take three backward, something pushed him gently back up.

And yeah, maybe it was harder to deny things right now given his current state of being but he couldn’t stop looking at the picture. A single second of something so simple and domestic but fuck, did they look right together. Lance’s only regret was that Keith was the one to take it, instead of being captured with them as he should have.

“You can’t even tell I’m drooling.” A smile cracked, thumb running across the line of Shiro’s photographed bicep.

“I can tell deep in my heart.” Shiro's declaration was followed with Keith coughing out the last of his cigarette and a laugh that was too infectious to not spread. The phone thudded back against Lance’s chest, Shiro’s hand wandered down the loose neck opening of his own tank top that the other happened to steal and one of Keith’s hand rested high up a tanned thigh, the thin strip of what Lance called ‘shorts’ the only thing available to sneak his fingers up into.

“Yeah? Can you tell deep in some other places?” He tugged at Shiro’s wrist, pushing the wandering hand further as he also blindly grouped at where he felt Keith’s fingers, forcing the other to shove up deeper in his five dollar short shorts he purchased in the girl's clearance section of Target.

“Maybe. If you give me another minute like this you’ll be able to feel it too. Against your head.” The grin could be heard in Shiro’s voice even if they couldn’t see it, like he was proud of his bold line, his fingertips trailing against skin much slower than normal, but the reaction it caused in his body just the same.

“Are you ever not a slut? I feel bad for whats-his-face now, probably tried to hump his fuckin leg every time you got high.” Despite his words, Keith leaned down, his hand now trapped between skin and cheap fabric, pressing hard against a hipbone and licking hotly against the open invitation of a warm thigh.

He loved it. Lance loved every seemingly slow second, the touches he was so used to feeling more intense, the mood they all drifted into so relaxed and natural. It didn’t matter to him how they did it. He didn’t care if it was Keith pressing him hard into the tile of the shower, biting at his neck and calling Lance his personal ‘fuckhole’. Or other times, bent over the kitchen table because Lance got so lost in their game that he forgot his ‘Sir’s’ and Shiro was too in love with the look of honest distress as he smacked against a perfect ass hard enough to make his own palm hurt. And even sometimes the other, smaller moments - when Lance bit back his tears, when he apologized for it, when he couldn’t work out why they even fell and when Shiro and Keith both wrapped him tight anyways and never once told him he shouldn’t.

He loved them, but he didn’t know how to say it, or when, and it seemed like it was never _just_ right, something was always off, or one of them was missing for whatever reason when he felt the flood to collapse and just beg whoever was in front of him to accept the fact that he was entirely consumed and completely fucked because, despite all his weariness, he wanted it so badly.

So instead he said nothing. Instead, he hummed out his pleasure, content to just drown where he was pressed between them, wondering if they could feel the words that wanted to seep out of his body because Lance couldn’t tell right now if that was real or not, but it sure as hell felt like it. The very last logical thread in his mind hung on to the idea that declaring his love for them right after getting shit-faced high might not be the best route, that they all might completely forget anyway in the morning, but it was so close to snapping.

Lance let everything else thread apart in place of it, let himself arch against Shiro’s wandering fingers, turned his face to the side to unapologetically press into the warmth of wrinkled work out shorts, inched his legs apart when Keith nudged barely demanding access.

_I love you both, so much, that I can’t fucking say it._

“Can we fuck again? You guys feel really good, right here.”

 

* * *

 

The thing about staying over was that no matter how he tried or what way he spun it, they always insisted Lance shared the bed, and smack in the middle between them as well. He stopped fighting it after he tried at least three times to say he could sleep on the couch, or joke that their bed was not big enough even though his body was mostly bones and some noodles. Every time Shiro would shake his head, or Keith would chuck a pillow at his face and they’d end up somehow dragging him back even as he tried to sneak away. Between them felt right and weird all at once, as if him wedged there would disrupt the nature of how the couple slept.

In the end, it didn’t seem to matter much; Keith would rip the covers off completely at some point in the night and Shiro would promptly steal them all besides a corner that Lance had to fight for. The next time he stayed he packed his own spare blanket, ignoring the snarky “Aw, you brought your blankie, aren’t you a big boy” from those shitty lips and slammed his whole frame right in the middle himself, earning a grunt from Shiro and a few seconds of wide-eyed terror from Keith.

“You’re sure fuckin right I did, you both sleep like weirdos and I’m tired of waking up covered by somehow both of your stupid legs and a three-inch triangle of blanket while Shiro looks like he’s sleep-wrestling the rest.” Lance had attempted only once to steal back some blanket from the older man. Never again.

The last time he stayed and went through this, Lance realized it was a little too cold for his preference, it being early December and all. Keith seemed content to run extremely hot somehow no matter the season, and Shiro preferred to save money and resources, able to control the heat in sections of the house. It was on in the bedroom, but the floor to ceiling windows and lack of curtain didn’t help him in any way. Plus, he was only sort of joking about being bones and noodles; Lance got cold and stayed cold, even when shoved between two bodies. He successfully burritoed himself in his own blanket, this time sleeping fitfully through the night until the unmistakable gleam of sun snapped him awake at god knows what hour.

It made no sense that they could keep sleeping, especially since both woke up before Lance during the week for work. He smugly considered that it was his fault, visiting every almost every Friday night and exhausting them enough that both didn’t even hint at being woken up as he wiggled down to the bottom of the bed to snake his way out.

Lance slid his feet into Shiro’s ratty old man slippers and wrapped the blanket back around himself like a fluffy cape before carefully creeping to the bedroom door and cursing as every single piece of wood Shiro laid in this cabin creaked under his feet and fingers. He dared to glance back at them and only found that Keith had sunk into Lance’s empty space, koala-ing his body around Shiro’s larger form as the older man snored into unruly dark locks. That answered that question.

It took a while to find everything that he really needed. The first few times Lance visited, it was always too dark and the tour kept getting cut short in favor of exploring other, more important things such as Keith’s zipper or the short hairs that peppered themselves over Shiro’s chin. He managed to explore himself a bit however and the other parts fell in place naturally with time.

He shuffled into the kitchen, hissing when the cool metal handle of the fridge proved itself that it yes, it was cold as fuck in here. He only unwrapped enough of his body from his warm cocoon to dart into the fridge, tugging out milk and eggs and bacon messily shoved back into a ziplock that hopefully hadn’t expired. They liked to eat out, he’d learned, favoring local non-chain spots and the few farmers markets on occasion but Lance had found quickly that Shiro just wanted like, four homemade pies and Keith was apparently in a different gay marriage with local honey.

He found them one Saturday morning not long ago, huddled over bowls of grape nuts (Shiro) and cocoa pebbles (Keith) and a small container of half in half sitting between them that might have expired the day before. Lance was poor like every other normal college kid in town but that was the last time he allowed that breakfast to unfold, demanding that they at least shop once in a while and get basic human food. He even threatened to do it himself - “Stop at the store, just like once a week, it’s literally right there...unless you want me to drag you every time you come pick me up. I’m warning you now, I shop like a chick.”

Shiro must snort protein powder or something because he should not be that jacked considering the diet of beer and beef jerky Lance had seen him showcase. Keith wasn’t much better, shoved onto the porch huddled over his pack of cigs, jar of peanut butter and a bent spoon balanced on top of it. “I don’t stare at you when you eat your fuckin rabbit food, fuck off giraffe boy.”

He’d ease them into salad later - it was too early in the relationship.

With a growing sense of familiarity, Lance filled Shiro’s coffee pot and flicked the switch on before dipping into the living room to shove a cold hand down Keith’s jacket, fishing out the pack and lighter there and placing them on the dining table near the back door to the porch. He wasn’t lying when he said he hated coffee; not once had Lance caught him even trying Shiro’s, and he made sure to make the man sample his best work at the coffee shop. He paused on the way back into the kitchen, eyes landing on the thermostat and deciding that he could deal with the consequences later if Shiro noticed. With a few presses, he pumped the heat up to something livable, shedding his blanket cape in favor of actually being able to work with his hands.

In hindsight, he should have grabbed clothes before leaving the bedroom. Clad in only his boxers and one of Keith’s old concert t-shirts, Lance shoved himself in front of the gas stove, half intent on cooking something that wasn’t from a cardboard box but also using the flames for immediate heat. He moved on auto-pilot, mixing a heap of eggs and milk, taking a risk to grip the fridge handle again to hunt for cheese, shifting the bacon pan to the furthest burner knowing the pain of hot grease against skin all too well.

The space was small. Shiro laid out the house plans himself, maximizing the spaces he’d use the most and decreasing them in other areas. It fit everything of course, and everything was nice and stainless steel, cabinets custom and retaining the natural wood tone that was throughout the cabin. It was homey before Lance arrived, but he made sure to place his mark; a set of three locally made mugs he’d splurged on during the fall craft fair, a picture of them from the overly expensive photo booth that weekend stuck to the fridge, a pair of blue oven mitts hanging from a nail in the wall because seriously who didn’t own oven mitts? What sort of freak grabbed reheated pizza from the oven in a folded up dish rag? The answer to that, of course, was Keith and when pressed, Shiro just said he ate the pizza cold.

Everyone has their own versions of functioning he supposed.

His eyes wandered across the counter in search of salt and pepper but instead landed on the old, beat up cd player, some of the tiny holes of the side speakers covered in probably, hopefully, what Lance assumed was food but he’d rather not check. He made fun of Shiro the first time he saw it - “Wow that is, Shiro….that’s an antique at this point. Please tell me you don’t actually have a CD in there….”

He did. Shiro happened to have a lot of CD’s, and anything ever playing in his truck was one. He even had the generic black fabric 10-CD holder, held in place on the passenger side visor with cracked, sun-bleached elastic. “Don’t even fucking try, he’s so old he’ll pretend he can’t hear you. I’ve tried, he doesn’t give a shit about anything new or anything other than the like, seven old-ass bands that only dads listen to.” 

Keith was right - that was a battle not worth fighting and Lance just settled with fake smiling through a bunch of acoustic guitars and long, hoarse singing.

Lance found himself pressing the power on anyway, the small space filling mid-song with something he had for sure heard on the way up through the woods, rattling against the gravel road in Shiro’s truck.

_*I haven’t felt like this in so longggg….Wroo-oo-ooonggg, in a sense too far gone from lo-oove.*_

He hummed to himself, not familiar enough with the lyrics and for the most part not catching every word considering every one of Shiro’s favorite singers felt the need to drag syllables out until you could barely guess at what was being said. He’d apparently been making an omelet without much thought, shifting over to the bacon after flipping said egg creation and stabbing at each slice with a fork to see if they were ready for their own flip. Belatedly, Lance wondered if the bread was still good from last weekend and if Keith actually listened to him to put it in the freezer instead of letting it get moldy every single time.

_*That don’t last for-evveeerrrr. Something’s gotta turn out right.*_

A pair of undeniably large hands wrapped themselves around Lance’s stomach from the back, startling him enough to nearly drop the fork he’d been using as a spatula. His embarrassing hum-a-long stopped short, caught red-handed in the act of enjoying Shiro’s dad music by the man himself. Lance didn’t need to confirm it - the press of chest to back and the scratchy feeling of a five o’clock shadow that was now two or so days old against his shoulder was enough.

“Though you could sneak out of bed huh?” Before Lance could answer, Shiro’s hands drifted further down, resting against each boxer-clad bony hip bone and pressing himself closer, starting the slow, lazy sway of hips to the music playing on the kitchen counter.

Moment’s shared apart with them were rare. It was always all three of them, and usually, they didn’t last long before someone was pressing with urgency against another, none of them particularly bothered with the fact that someone was always horny enough to get shit started.

Keith was easier to read in some ways; closer in age, similar with his humor when he felt like it, naturally rising to challenge Lance whenever a fight wanted to play out. The way he tilted his chin up and flipped Lance off made him want to shove his tongue down that stupid throat and give him something to smirk about.

With Shiro - it wasn’t the same. Time was awarding Lance with more insight into the man; small parts of him that were softer and more reserved for only Keith until Lance was allowed in too. The way they’d met had been confusing, had Lance thinking it was Shiro that would tug and pull him and while Keith was more than happy to do that part, Shiro was content to hang back and run the show in a different way. Although hot as fuck, it sometimes didn’t allow that playful ease to permeate around their relationship. It was Shiro and Keith. It was Keith and Lance. The last part of the triangle wasn’t quite there yet despite the first encounter and flirty intent.

Lance wasn’t a pusher; Shiro’s presence alone demanded a sort of compliance and respect and Lance was too careful with what they did have that he didn’t want to shake something up that would eventually move on its own if he let it.

He was right to wait. The moments did come, small and few at first, and then faster and regular, things about Shiro slowly locking into place like an old puzzle that had a few pieces weathered and smudged. Lance took them and let each one wash over him, let Shiro control the waves just the way he liked until the water became a slow roll, some waves crashing over and others simply lapping against his feet.

“Gotta earn my keep, don’t I? Keith said my ass is too flat so I figured I’d try to make up for it somehow.”

That earned him a deek chuckle and hands sliding back up, dipping under Keith’s t-shirt to press thumbs against sore muscles at his sides that Lance hadn’t paid much attention to until now.

“Sweetheart, your ass is perfect, Keith’s just jealous he didn’t get any last night because I wanted you all to myself.”

Despite Lance’s protest, Keith’s sarcastic pet-name for him seemed to stick in an annoying way that, try as he might, he couldn’t help the upwards tilt of his mouth whenever he heard it from either of them. For a moment Lance let himself stay there, locked in the sway of Shiro’s hips and the warm press of his palms leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“This for me?” Shiro’s hand slid up Lance’s forearm, guiding his own calloused fingers against thin, slightly cold ones. He moved them both, pointing the fork down to the omelet while brushing his nose against the short hairs at the back of Lance’s neck.

Lance’s mind flashed to the night before, those same calloused fingers digging against his, gripping them tight against rumpled sheets as Shiro worked himself into Lance smooth and slow until the body below him shook and begged for something more.

“...Yes...Yes Sir.” He’d meant for it to come out sultry and suggestive, but Lance didn’t always have control of himself (mostly never actually) and instead his voice drifted soft and low, betrayed him in trying to seem like he had himself together when instead he felt like it wasn’t fair to have half a hard-on this close to cooking bacon.

It didn’t matter much either way; Shiro responded to the call, hummed against Lance’s neck and dipped his free hand lower, sliding across the suggestion of abs and down to the light trail of hair that started before the elastic of boxer briefs.

“That's my good boy, letting us sleep in while you made breakfast.”

Lance was so fucked. The idea that he was Shiro’s anything somehow simultaneously went directly to his heart and dick.

He lied to himself- pretended that he didn’t just whimper, that his hand still clasped in Shiro’s didn't falter, that his head didn’t fall back just a bit to lean against a warm shoulder, the gentle swaying he’d been trapped in naturally slowing as the song ended. He could feel Shiro’s lips against his neck, the obvious press of a grin and the content, deep inhale and exhale.

Before he could attempt to piece his mind back together enough to form a reply, Shiro did it for him, sliding the fork out of Lance’s hand and chuckling as he extracted himself carefully, watching to make sure the other could stand on his own.

A sharp, playful smack to his ass had Lance hissing in surprise and stumbling over to the fridge, his eyes wide for a moment before they steadied into a half-hearted glare. “Shiro, I haven’t…”

“Go wake up Keith, baby. I can fix my own plate.” And Lance stood there for a moment, watching the older man turn to the upper cabinets to grab a plate, warm smile still pressing along his lips as he moved naturally over the stove.

He told himself when this all started that it was just luck, that every moment they spent together was another stroke of luck; that something like this wouldn’t ever last. But here he was - standing in a kitchen that felt like a new kind of home, standing in Shiro’s slippers and Keith’s shirt, watching the strong line of bare back muscles move, the hint of a nod as the next song played from the countertop and the distant groan and sigh from their bedroom door not far off.

Lance turned away, unable to wipe the grin off his face or ignore the now completely full-on boner that made itself present as he walked across the living room to the bedroom door, creaking it open and snickering at the absolute illogical way Keith’s hair defied gravity in the morning.

“Wake up _princess_ , I made you bacon.”

“Make me, slut. Suck every part of my dick, it’s too early.”  Keith grumbled and threw a pillow at the door, his aim completely off as it flopped uselessly to the ground.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Lance climbed on top of the warm, near naked heap of Keith, that grin never leaving his mouth as he tugged relentlessly at a pair of faded black boxers while his boyfriend swore and half-heartedly pushed him off only to pull him back and give Lance a sleepy, devious smile. Bacon could wait.

 

* * *

 

“Out you go now, no more sulking, and take these - they’ll go in the trash if you don’t, it's completely dead in here, same as it always is at the beginning of winter break. Happy holidays m’boy, I’ll see you bright and early in two weeks!”

Lance put up a good fight, or at least he thought he did until the owner caught him wiping down the same table for the third time and no one had even sat there once since they opened. On any other normal day he would have been elated to leave early, especially with no dock in pay, and double especially with a bag full of soon to be unsellable pastries but….

He trudged out the door, messenger bag creasing heavily against his layers of long sleeve, hoodie, and shitty jacket. Lance brushed his hair back before snapping his old beat up baseball cap over it, pulling up both hoods and gripping his free food a bit tighter as he stood in front of the shop like an idiot 

Keith was supposed to pick him up after work, sometime around seven or so, according to the text he got that morning with no other explanation given.

_*change of plans shiros OTing on emergency roof job, he carpooled. guess who gets to pick up ur flat ass after work.*_

Lance stared at his phone, watching small specks of white float down and melt against the screen. It was 5:53 PM. _Motherfucker._ He packed already, like an idiot, the full weight of a few day’s worth of clothes weighing against his back, plus his laptop and toothbrush and whatever else 6 AM-Lance thought would be essential in staying over for more than a few nights. He could just walk back to the apartment and then wait and then walk back or...text Keith but he knew from experience the asshole didn’t check his phone during his shifts. The longer Lance stayed there and stared at the street, the more he felt less inclined to trudge around in the quickly accumulating inches of white bullshit. Also, he didn’t have boots and the cold wetness that was winter was already soaking through his overused vans.

The shop was only a few more minutes walking than it would be to get back to the apartment. He’d passed it plenty of times, never knowing Keith was in there bent over some shitty Toyota all day because they hadn’t met yet. The apprehension was there even still; even if Lance had stopped with Shiro to get Keith at the end of the day, even if he knew the rundown sign and could almost hear the chime of the bell that looped itself on the door’s handle…

Lance had never been inside. He’d never met Keith’s coworkers, never had the chance to imagine with a semblance of knowledge about what his boyfriend looked at work other than the short, stolen glances into the weathered garage door windows and the barely there feeling of a desk somewhere deeper set from the main office door.

Keith didn’t talk much about work either. There were no names passed in conversation, no stories swapped after Lance shut up about how many coffee’s Pidge made herself and why the bathroom’s toilet paper kept suddenly disappearing.

He’d be lying if he said it didn’t at least bother him a little bit, but it was never enough to say anything because once in a while Keith would go on for a solid five minutes about the absolute shit state of a car he had that day and just how long it took him to fix every single thing about it. Lance didn’t know fuck-all about cars but he stayed silent every time, soaking up the rare moment of Keith sharing something about himself, something he was clearly confident in mixed with his displeasure over people not taking proper care of the shit they owned.

“That sucks - at least you fixed it though, right?” He could never really add to the conversation when it came to the topic but silence seemed worse.

“Didn’t you have that car six months ago for something? Don’t need to be a genius to know when they salt roads it's gonna rot away the undercarriage. I’ve seen that piece of work at the diner - surprised you didn't tell him to just scrap it at this point.” Shiro was better at it. Shiro was better at a lot of things compared to Lance.

At some point his feet had already decided what was happening today because Lance was walking toward the Garrison car shop, his bag of free goods half tucked under his open coat due to the fact that there was no space left in his other. It was nerve-wracking meeting people, and although Lance could usually fudge his way through with his killer smile and even better sense of humor, when it came to Keith and Shiro he had no idea how to tackle any of it.

He didn’t know, which was most of the issue, who -if anyone- was in on their arrangement or even if what they were doing was an arrangement at all, or if anyone else was allowed to know or if Lance was some sort of secret or _fuck_ , did anyone they worked with even know about them without him? Just two dudes that shared a cabin out in the middle of nowhere secretly gay woods. Right.

He sighed, stopping under the dull glow of the garage’s sign, snow collecting faster against the worn plastic, the sky just as dull now with an oncoming storm and shorted daylight. He wanted to worry about Shiro getting home - carpooling with people he’d never even heard of but...that was too much. He was being too needy; Shiro was a grown adult, his years closer to Lance’s own father than to Lance himself. At least with Keith…

The only person who knew was Hunk and Lance was going to keep it like that for as long as he could. He’d told his family he was staying with friends for a few days at the beginning of break, that he’d be home a day or so before the holidays. He didn’t say exactly who or where he’d be staying. That was a conversation that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Cold fingers wrapped around the colder metal door, pushing in and met with barely warmer conditions as the shrill chime of a near rusted bell tied to the outside filled the space between Lance and whoever sat at the front desk. Not knowing what to expect but having some vague idea of what the inside office of a mechanics looked like, Lance wasn’t that far off save for the old space heater tucked into a bare corner and the equally as old CRT TV hanging on its last legs from a ceiling mount. It was muted but displaying a particularly ancient rerun of Maury. Someone screamed silently at another person, probably about how they weren’t the father and…

“Can I help you? We’re an hour from close so unless you want to leave it overnight - it's not getting done today. Close the door too - it sticks open; shits already cold enough in here as it is.”

Flustered, Lance turned and pushed the metal door back in place, the ungodly grind of concrete and steel making him more self-conscious as the bell jingled through his efforts.

“Ah-no, I don’t. I’m here for Keith.” The man paused and looked over his glasses, taking his first gaze over the snow-covered college kid standing dumbly in front of him looking completely out of place.

“You got an appointment? Keith usually don’t schedule this late unless it’s an emergency.”

“No. Ah, no, I don’t have a car I just,” The man gave him another weird look and Lance decided that his original gut feeling of coming here being a bad idea was in fact, correct.

“Sorry - that was, can you just tell him Lance is here? Or - I mean, I can wait until he’s done for the day, here, if that’s cool…”

He looked for a moment longer, making Lance feel extra self-conscious before nodding with a grunt and sliding his chair over to the small window, pulling it open to fill the room with various mechanic noises Lance couldn’t even begin to properly place.

“Keith! Office when you have a second. You got a visitor.” He shouted into the garage, closing the window back before even attempting to see if anyone answered. Without another word, the man motioned to the small cluster of waiting room chairs, none of which looked to be free of some sort of stain. Lance scrambled to take a seat quickly, probably looking like a fucking weirdo in the process and pointedly faced away from the front desk to pretend like he was watching the muted TV. Staring at the guy who clearly didn’t really want him here wasn’t going to make him feel any better.

He flipped his phone out for a distraction, extracting the bag of probably partially squished baked goods and setting them on the small end table that wobbled as soon as any weight hit it. 6:18 PM, a good hour or more Keith was expecting to see him. The more Lance flipped through Instagram mindlessly, the more he felt like time was slowing just to punish him with the mood of this place. It’s not like he could feel the guy at the front desk staring at him, or judging him, or wondering who the fuck he was in the first place just - it felt off and like he wasn’t welcome, despite the sign on the front door that indicated as such. Well, maybe that wasn’t true either; he wasn’t a customer.

Thankfully before Lance could press himself deeper into his hole of self-doubt, the side door a few feet away from the window the front desk guy had yelled out opened, dragging his attention to away from his phone to look up. “Jerry - I’m almost done with it, finishing up the paperwork now, the guy said he couldn’t pick it up until tomorrow though so…..oh.”

Lance tried for a smile but probably ended up more with a shitty grin, the stare Keith was giving him currently making that shit slide right off his face immediately. He didn’t exactly look happy, but he also didn’t seem pissed so...sort of a win? Lance hadn’t thought about what would happen when Keith actually showed up.

“Right. You said a visitor.” A grumble, inaudible sound was the only reply, ‘Jerry’ frowning down at a pile of papers on the desk. Without another work Keith stalked over, hands shoved deep in his pockets and an eyebrow raised, most likely wondering what the fuck Lance was doing here instead of waiting for him.

Lance had been so busy with his silent, internal panic of why every time he made a decision for himself it seemed to never be the right one that he didn’t get to take in the full picture that was Keith At Work ™. But he did now, and he took his sweet time with it, Keith’s back to the front desk as he eyed Lance on his way over.

He was filthy. Dark hair pulled back to keep the longer strands out of his face, his thick blue jacket riddled with stains, almost as many as his Carhartt work pants and Lance had no idea what color his boots used to be, but they settled somewhere between dirty mud and ruined brown. His gaze flicked up a bit too quick, Keith catching him in the act of checking him out and awarding Lance with the smallest uptick of his lips. Lance could smell the oil and grease before Keith stood in front of him.

“Come to get your oil changed?” Lance took a moment to himself, eyes closed as he breathed out and just accepted what kind of person Keith was. Lance owned approximately zero cars and Keith knew that.

“Move, I was just about to see if this dude was the father, you’re blocking my view.” Keith did not move, instead leaning down, a hand darting out from his jacket and flicking the brim of Lance’s hat.

“You lost then? Want me to call your emergency contact number?” Lance met that shitty playful glare with his own, licking his lips before replying. “I mean, sure - if you want to call yourself. Figured you’d pull stuff like that. Did you give Shiro the number to Burger King when he asked for yours the first time?” That earned Lance a rare smile, the humor tugging at his lips much like how watching Keith crack open just the smallest amount tugged at Lance’s heart.

“Nah, didn’t have a phone back then - gave him the number to this place. The guys gave him a hell of a time when he started coming around.” Lances expression quickly switched from playful and jabbing to more thoughtful and surprised; both of his boyfriends had only shared a handful of personal relationship information and this was new.

Before he could say anything, Keith leaned over and snatched the bag next to Lance, uncrumpling the hastily closed top and poking around. “This for us or…”

“Nah, Coran kicked me out early and shoved that at me, something about Happy Holidays and what not, s’why I’m here instead of, there.” It sounded lame the second he offered his explanation and Lance reached to scratch at the back of his neck only to meet two layers of hood and another of hat, forgetting he never bothered to get comfortable here.

“Good.” Keith turned to the desk, jostling the contents of the bag. “Hey Jerry, you like any of the shit at the coffee place downtown?” And Keith just walked away, not another word or acknowledgment to Lance.

“Mm, yeah - those rectangle things, they got chocolate or whatever. I dunno what they are, wife says they making me fatter but she keeps coming home with them so, ain’t my fault.” Jerry chuckled and Keith grinned, placing the bag of goodies to the desk’s top. “Pretty sure we got that, let the boys know too, Lance brought these. Mind if I dip out a bit early? Report will be done in 10.”

It was seamless, the guy at the front desk naturally more at ease with Keith and he even looked over to offer a nod in Lance’s direction, the weird tension from before gone. Lance didn’t say jack shit, just watched the exchange and then Keith’s back as he dipped into the garage and sure enough, ten minutes later he was pushing Lance back out into the cold, flipping the welcome sign to closed.

“You could have saved some! I mean, I didn’t know I’d be getting those but I thought maybe I’d share with you and Shiro.” Keith flicked a snow scraper in Lance’s direction, smirking as it nearly stabbed into his shoulder before popping the door to Shiro’s truck and starting it, the low rumble and sputter almost like a protest to the upcoming drive home.

“I’ll live, don’t tell Shiro or he’ll pout - he’s got a fuckin creepy obsession with those cranberry muffins.” Lance worked the scraper over the window with his own pout, helping clear off for the ride back. He popped his door open, slapping now mostly soaked shoes against the edge and tucked himself in, the heat only barely blowing to something not ice cold as it struggled in its years to keep up.

“Your free garbage did better at the shop anyways- those guys can seem rough but they’re just protective. Trust me, they gave Shiro hell and before you ask, no, they don’t know I have a secret boyfriend and yes, my asshole will get grilled come Monday because a special someone wandered in looking like a kicked puppy and I didn’t immediately spit on you.”

Lance felt a smile creep across his lips, shoving his bag on the old bench seat of Shiro’s truck between him and Keith. He refrained from exclaiming how small the other looked when the spot was usually filled with all of Shiro’s…body, but being kicked out of a moving truck during what seemed to be a growing snowstorm didn’t sound very fun.

“Secret boyfriend huh?” Keith didn’t need to look over to see the shit-eating grin on Lance’s face.

“If you don’t shut up I’ll play one of Shiro’s old man CDs. My Eddie Vedder impersonation is spot on.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY! So, this is shorter than previous chapters but- I'll be out of town for colossalcon east and I wanted to get SOMETHING up instead of nothing so. 
> 
> This is a continuation and conclusion of last chapters last scene. It's smut! Not beta-ed at all and only vaguely re-read so, yell at me if somethings broken thanks <3

It took longer than normal to get home, well….to get back to Shiro’s cabin, which Lance had been calling home in his head longer than he was willing to admit and would never admit if either of them asked. It wasn’t his fault; the slow drift of snow had turned into something more substantial, the thick of it coming down as soon as barely-there road turned from dirt to gravel, Shiro’s truck’s tires fighting against the complete lack of plowed anything. Keith handled it well, handled it like he’d done this before but Lance…

The worry started to seep in before they made it to the driveway. It settled thicker, layering like how the storm had picked up, a small nighttime drift accumulating in inches and then suddenly just too much, like a blanket shoved across the sky and Lance realized just how bad it was outside when he toed his shoes off and attempted to see anything out of those big, beautiful floor to ceiling windows.

“Did he say? You know, how long it would be, or when they’d get here or….”

Keith was unreadable, nothing new according to Lance of course, but he’d stepped through the front door and shook off his boots and jacket in a routine normal enough, void of any emotion that betrayed Lance right now in the tone of his questions.

“Dunno. They’re done when they’re done. If it keeps snowing like it is, probably later than normal.” Keith flopped himself onto the couch, staring at the unlit fireplace as if his will could start it.

Literally none of those words helped ease Lance’s tension, instead prompting him to nervously flick his phone out and feeling even worse when nothing greeted him- no text, no call, no anything from Shiro. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense but like, it’s sort of almost late now, and like...the weather app said it was just going to get worse so…”

“They always carpool in the best truck, snow tires and shit. I’m sure he’s fine, he’ll get home when he gets home.” Keith reached for the remote and for some reason it made Lance’s stomach flip uncomfortably; the thought of Keith not worrying or seeming like he didn’t care only added to his anxiety.

“He’d….he’d like, call you though right? If something was wrong or, if they couldn’t make the drive or….I mean wouldn’t he call you to let you know they left for the day or something?” His voice was just a tad too high, the words coming just a bit too rushed and it had Keith stopping mid-motion, his finger an inch from the remote’s power button to look over at Lance.

He stood there, jacket unzipped but still on, baseball cap crumpling messy hair underneath, socks pressing against the hardwood below, slightly damp, like the inch or so bottom of his jeans and his phone tight-gripped, the look of concern so obvious that Keith wasn’t sure how he missed it before.

It wasn’t a new thing. Keith had lost count how many times Shiro had to stay late, sometimes not coming home until well after midnight. But for Lance, it was.

“Hey…” Keith had to compose himself, tug back the slight annoyance of the situation because he was smart enough to know by now that it never helped anything if he let that fly like it wanted to. He sat back up from the couch, let the remote fall from his grasp, and closed the distance between them easily, fingers brushing down the chill of Lance’s jacket.

“I just. I know you both are,... I mean it’s just that…” An uneasy sigh shook itself from pale lips, Lance’s shoulders dipping down but not really getting rid of the tense he could feel everywhere.

It was stupid, right? How long had it been - three, maybe four months? Lance knew they had a routine, he knew how long they’d been married, saw how easy Keith and Shiro existed together. No disconnects, no questions about when and why or whose turn it was to figure out dinner. They were comfortable; they found their rhythm long ago.

It wasn’t enough time for Lance to place himself into that; he still fumbled around, trying to match them when he could, trying to figure out where exactly he could fit. Now was one of those times - a mismatch where Keith was comfortable and Lance just fucking, wasn’t.

“Hey. Look at me.” If Keith were five years younger he wouldn’t have made it this far, would have turned away with a meaner version of ‘figure out your own shit’. Instead, his other hand came up, sliding along an olive green sleeve, brushing down to where Lance’s fingers remained unreasonably tight against his phone.

“Shiro will come home. He always does.”

Lance looked up with possibly the most pitiful, shit attempt at a smile, not even able to hold the facade longer than two seconds before his lips slipped into a frown. He couldn’t look at Keith. He couldn’t even figure out if he was allowed to have these feelings.

He tried to hide it, to steady himself enough to just pretend like he wasn’t in the middle of a mild freak out over the fact that he was worried about anything in the first place. Lance could usually smile his way through anything but right now the effort just wasn’t there. He cracked, just a little. Just enough for Keith to know how bad it actually was.

“Ok. Ok but,...what if he doesn’t.”

It would have been anger a handful of years ago. Aggravation that someone couldn’t just see eye to eye, or realize that an overreaction wasn’t needed. The way Lance looked at him now, the years of being with Shiro that smoothed Keith’s sharper edges, and an echo of knowing how he felt at that age…

“Baby, it’s ok. Come here.” It wasn’t Keith’s normal teasing ‘sweetheart’, but it was on purpose. It was Shiro’s go-to. For both of them.

He did, of course. Lance crumpled against him, took the half step closer and pressed his nose to Keith’s neck, let the wild stray hairs tickle there as he pulled a shaky inhale and exhale out. He was pouting and he knew it, but Keith didn’t seem to care as his hands drifted up, crept along that tan neck, scratched up into brown hair that was overdue for a cut. He reached further, flicked the brim of Lance’s hat lightly before settling at trim hips and uncurling Lance’s phone from his fingers.

“You hungry?” Softer this time, all of Keith’s focus on the worried boy slumped against him.

“Mmnno.” Lance made no attempt to move from his spot, instead pressing more of his face into Keith’s hair, hunching down just a bit to close the whole two inches that made up their height difference.

“Alright.”

He moved without explaining any further, tossed Lance’s phone to bounce soundlessly on the couch cushions, plucked his favorite baseball cap off and threw it in the same general direction. Lance tilted away, lips pressed like he was about to ask but never got the chance because Keith grabbed his wrist and tugged it towards the bedroom, tugged him around the bed and tugged his jacket away in the process, never stopping to allow any discussion.

They were in the bathroom now, the only light source a small nightlight Lance insisted on after the third time he slammed his big toe into the corner of those beautifully, hand-crafted pine drawers that had possibly the sharpest edges he ever had the chance to ruin his skin on.

For all of Shiro’s quiet strength and well-contained pride over what he’d made, when Lance complimented on what he’d done here Shiro just shrugged and tried to hide a grin, said he favored comfort and utility over square footage.

The shower was fucking huge though. There was no space to complain about how the room slanted to follow the path of the roof because like the rest of the house, one entire wall was windows and the opposite of that was what Lance assumed to be the only model of tub that could contain Shiro’s body comfortably (also it had jets). Tucked in corners were the rest of the unimportant bathroom details, what mattered really was the shower, carved directly across from the doorway, taking up almost the entire space from wall to opposite window. It matched the fireplace; each river rock puzzled into concrete, the floor covered in smaller versions and the biggest shower-head Lance had ever seen in his life, all wrapped up pretty in walls of clear glass, big enough to fit the couple with room to spare, which is what Lance did as often as he could.

But Shiro wasn’t home now and there was too much room; the thought picked its way through Lance’s confusion to why Keith dragged him here and was currently flipping the switch for a small overhead light and trying to unbutton Lance’s jeans at the same time.

“Dude, wait...what are you,” And Keith did wait, for just a second, staring back at his boyfriend like the eye contact would just explain his intent. It never did; it seemed like both Shiro and Lance were alike in that way - completely oblivious until he spelled it out for them.

“You need a distraction, and I need a shower, so here we are, in the one room that can do both those things.” He managed to pop the top button and half the second one before a certain pair of hands pressed down over his own.

“A distraction? Like what? Pretty sure you know how to wash your ass yourself. I mean I’m all for helping I guess…” A hint of a grin landed at the end of his sentence, one that was infectious and spread its way to Keith as well right before he forcibly pushed the second button out of its loop and dragged the zipper down before Lance’s fingers could figure out what to do.

“Mm. Don’t worry, we ain’t doin’ that. Gunna fuck you instead.” The fingers against his tightened at that just for a beat before the telltale, easy to miss exclamation of surprise came.

Keith looked up finally, the lights above set to half-dim, eyes catching the way Lance stared back before looking elsewhere like he’d been caught. This wasn’t new- Keith fucked him plenty of times before but it always seemed to occur with Shiro there. Sure they’d messed around without him; Lance’s mouth was good for more than just talking, but it never got further than that. And there wasn’t any good explanation for it, there weren’t any rules or unspoken promises. It just didn’t pan out that way. 

He pressed forward, forced Lance to look back at him before sliding his palms down the back of his jeans between boxers and skin, earning a wonderful quiet groan and Lance’s hands tugging at the top of Keith’s dirty work shirt.

“You smell like eight hours of motor oil.” A hiss, Keith pressing his nails against bare asscheek and giving a single pleased chuckle before crowding against Lance further, shoving him against his own body and smirking at the familiar feel of boxers doing a shit job at hiding anything.

“Yeah? Feels like you don’t exactly hate that. Too bad it’ll wash away- not fucking you here, gonna get you nice and wet, everywhere.”

It was one thing to feel thoroughly fucked over someone that was much older, greyer, larger, hotter….etc, but it was another thing to feel equally fucked of that same guy’s husband, who happened to be shoving his hands down your pants and promising to fuck the life out of you in the very shower said larger husband built with his beautiful, talented hands.

It wasn’t ever the same. All of them together, just Shiro and Lance, just Lance and Keith, and even sometimes only Keith and Shiro and Lance got to watch. Sure, they all followed different paths, but it always branched, always left Lance tripping over his own shoes that had already run down this road. The only thing that ever seemed to be a constant was that Lance didn’t have control, not over himself, not over anything they did, and certainly not over his own dick considering his track record with these two.

And fuck, did he love every second of it.

Fingers inched closer, Keith’s index fingers sliding right down the middle and teasing just enough to get Lance to whine and press himself forward, his forehead pressing against Keith’s shoulder.

“Please.” Muffled against the same work shirt, sweat and grease filling Lance’s senses in a pleasant way, something he’d equated to home.

“Mm, already? Gunna be a good boy for me?” Keith stopped before adding the ‘until Shiro gets home’, not wanting to ruin the good feeling he’d managed to get his boyfriend in already. 

“Yeah. You know I’m always good for you.” Still a tease even while pressing against Keith at the front and trying to chase his wandering fingers in the back, which were currently doing an amazing job at distracting Lance from anything else that wasn’t the promise of getting fucked.

Lance liked to play and Keith knew it but the way it came out tonight, the low murmur and grip at his shoulders as Lance rocked against him, needy and desperate already...well, not everything always goes to plan but fuck if Keith wasn’t going to roll with it.

“Fuck baby, you really are.”

If they were at Chili’s Lance would have already declared that he felt god in it tonight.

Currently, instead of there, Lance was face first against a not-so-smooth stone as warm water pelted against his back. He tried to protest this, of course, tried to argue with Keith that the two-inch height difference would make it uncomfortable and someone was going to slip but Keith did not fucking care. He had a mission and once that was set, Lance didn’t stand a chance. Keith was ruthless.

So was his tongue, which happened to be buried deep in Lance’s ass as his fingers spread his boyfriend’s cheeks apart. He was half kneeling, hair already drenched and skin already clean and washed from their earlier press and fumble in the shower. Much like the rest of his night, this hadn’t been planned either but god, Lance begged so pretty just to be touched and it made Keith want to drag it out until he could barely form words.

It was hard to hold back and not just take everything he wanted when Lance always gave himself over without any fight. Even when they teased, even when he tried to escape and taunt Keith with that infuriatingly skinny, perfect ass, he always folded in the end. Always laid himself bare and gave everything and then some. It was intoxicating in a whole new way; a new dynamic added to the rhythm he shared with Shiro, somehow fitting and complimenting and filling the spots they didn’t know were left open.

His words were gentle but his hands were far from it. Keith grabbed, had pulled Lance’s shirt over his head, shucked his jeans and boxers down, laid him nude without an attempt to do the same with himself. Lance tried to return it, had reached for Keith’s t-shirt but was met with fingers around his wrist and a sharp kiss placed at his jaw.

“Shower, now. You know how I like the water.”

Keith just watched, stood there in the middle of the bathroom with the low, building specific burn that came with seeing a nude body rushing to get everything how he wanted it, knowing what would come next. He never blamed Shiro for demanding this in his own way; the power felt fucking fantastic and Lance was eager in a way that Keith was not. Keith liked the fight. Lance liked to be consumed. 

Which was what was happening now, his breathy moans lost against the shower wall, muffled by the spray of water as Keith licked a thick stripe across his skin before pressing in just a bit, just enough to get those hips canting back in a silent plea for more. He rocked back, grinning with a smack of his palm against Lance’s ass that sounded harsher than it was. The impact was the same either way.

“F-fuck, Keith. Keith please, please I’m…”

“What’s wrong baby? Can’t take it already? S’only been like three minutes, come on, you can do better than that.”

Keith smiled at the slight shake that wracked the boy’s legs in front of him, the honest attempt to steady himself, forearms braced against the wall and wet locks dripping against them, the way his feet inched just a bit further from each other on the floor.

Lance’s reward was another slow lick, a teasing circle and then no warning as Keith doubled his efforts, pressed his face as close as he could get and dipped his tongue further, as deep as possible and fucked it in and out, mimicking how he’d really slam his hips if he were allowing himself the chance to.

This wasn’t about him though - it never had been since the moment they came home.

And Lance broke, just like how Keith wanted him to, shook and curled his toes against the stone below, swore under his breath and started to beg for something, anything, because he was close but not close enough, overwhelmed but not quite over the edge, his own cock hard and ready but untouched since they started. Keith just grinned, pulled back and kissed at his lower back, stood up and draped himself over Lance’s shivering form despite the warm water that cascaded over both of them.

“I got you sweetheart, so good for me. You wanna be good, yeah?”

The soft chant of ‘yes, yes, please, yes’ mumbled against his own arm came in reply, as did the needy push back of his ass against what he really wanted, what Keith wouldn’t give him yet.

Dirty talk was sort of Shiro’s thing, at least, it seemed to flow more naturally from him. Keith could tag team just fine but when left alone it didn’t feel as seamless. Judging by Lance’s reactions it didn’t seem to fucking matter because he was rocking back hard now, grinding himself against two of Keith’s fingers and panting, begging between breaths of air for Keith to touch him, which of course he refused.

“M’already touching you, you can’t feel it?” A chuckle and a few slower moments as he dumped more lube between his plunging fingers and the crack of Lance's ass, pumping a few more times before wiggling a third and working it in slow, his forehead pressed against the center of Lance’s upper back as he worked him over.

“Fuck. Fuck you, of-ohh, of course I can feel, shit,..fuck, Keith. Please, my legs, please I can’t...Keith.”

He wasn’t lying- Keith could see the tremble there, felt the slight shake even as he continued fucking his fingers into Lance, dragged his gaze up to see the edges of white knuckles as he struggled to hold himself together. God, he was so good. It didn’t matter how much it was, or how loud he begged or how close his body was to giving up; Lance never even thought to make a move against a given order. That level of devotion was its own pleasure to be on the receiving end of and it was reserved only for them, only for Keith right in this moment.

“Think you’re good now, nice and stretched for me. Gonna make you ride my cock until you come just from that.” The sharp inhale that came in response was also a particular sort of pleasure just for Keith.

Lance took it. God, did he take it like he was meant for it. They were on the bench of the shower, the small alcove barely big enough for Keith to sit and lance to noodle his knees to the side of each hip. Facing each other, Keith’s hands slid and kneaded against the little dip of lower back before it became ass, Lance’s arms wrapped tightly around wet shoulders as he rocked up and down, slow and messy, just like how their lips pressed together above.

It wasn’t that he forgot about Shiro, or was any less worried, it was just that everything was Keith now. Everything was warm and wet and they fit together will no real urgency; every time Lance tried to speed his hips Keith pressed against them, stilled him back to slow grinding and it was the best sort of torture.

He escaped the peppered bites to his lower lip, tipped his head back and gripped tighter as he slid his lap forward, tried to get some friction on his neglected cock because it still, _still_ , had not been touched and it was maddening now because they’d been at it for….some amount of time Lance lost track of and he just wanted to get off now, knew it would take under a minute with a firm fist or just the right angle and speed of a thrust because he was that close.

“K-Keith. God, please. I wanna...please I’m…”

“Shh, I know baby. So good, you can wait another minute, I promise, s’worth it.” Keith was having his own difficult time, generally preferring hard and fast both in giving and receiving. This was part of the plan though- riding it out on purpose on the off chance that...he’d be right.

And he was.

Shiro had been watching for a good minute or so, his footfall silent enough between the rush of water from the showerhead and his caution as soon as he’d found them hidden in the back of the house like this.

Lance hadn’t noticed, his body facing the back of the shower stall opposite the doorway. He kept at it, riding Keith, his groans gone and replaced with half pleas and tired whimpers.

Keith held Shiro’s gaze as he continued to rock up into Lance, let his hands slide along tanned skin to wrap tighter at his waist. He’d said it loud enough for Shiro to hear, Lance too far gone to realize the difference.

It was tense at first, Shiro watching them with a mix of expressions. He was noticeably tired, noticeably damn intrigued too, but something else- an old flame of challenge Keith liked to drag out of him. The crack of a familiar smile came when Shiro saw the game for what it was and beat Keith before he could even start because the tease was a false one; they both belonged to him already. Both Lance and Keith were Shiro’s and jealousy was a long forgotten afterthought.

He stripped silently there in the doorway, quietly and never once letting his eyes stray from Keith’s even as the other faltered and closed his for a moment, eyebrows pinched together when Lance pressed his head back to Keith’s shoulder and begged once more, broken and full of need. He couldn’t muster a reply in fear that anything would break the moment because it wasn’t in his control anymore, especially now with Shiro stalking towards them in all his nude glory, obvious arousal already stirring.

It was then that Lance finally realized they weren’t alone, the sound of the glass shower door pulling open and feet stepping against wet tile, the rush of momentary cooler air before Shiro closed them in. Keith felt the body below him tense before Lance’s head tried to turn, tried to confirm who had joined them even though the answer was obvious and known already.

“Sh-Shiro?...” He’d stopped moving along Keith’s lap but neither of them was in any mood to let Lance get away with that because fuck, the vulnerability was too intoxicating.

A snap of hips up and fingers tugging in Lance’s hair from Keith, firm lips against his neck and a known pair of hands encompassing and circling around tanned hips from Shiro as he leaned down behind them.

“Hey sweetheart, being good for Keith? Did you wait for me?” His voice came rough and low with a trail of a chuckle at the end when Lance shivered and leaned back, arched so more of his neck was available and moved out of sync just to feel those large hands press more into his muscles.

“Shiro.” Confirmation and relief seeped from Lance’s lips, the last bit of tense that hid deeper than Keith could dig out washed away with the water dripping down all of them. Shiro didn’t know the extent of what came with his name, or how long Keith had been holding the boy trapped between them now together. He didn’t need to in the moment- they’d whisper about it later tangled together in bedsheets. Right now all he needed to know was that Lance was his.

Keith leaned back, let his head rest against stone and shared a look with his husband, his own exhaustion showing clearly the way a frown pulled each time Lance ground back down, still chasing friction and faster now with Shiro’s presence. He was close, he could have finished this off ten minutes ago but he wanted to wait, wanted Shiro there for Lance’s sake even though he could get selfish near the end with the boy that seemed to drive them both crazy. A wordless ‘please’ left Keith’s lips just for him, Lance oblivious to the exchange.

There was no need to draw it out; Shiro gave a small understanding nod and let his hands dip lower between them, one resting on a hip and the other trailing up Lance’s neglected cock to wrap firmly around and give a long, slow tug.

“It’s ok baby, I’m home, you’ve been so good, such a good boy for us. Go ahead.” Shiro left no chance for any reply, one hand stroking faster and the other on Lance’s hip encouraging the sloppy fast bounce the boy had picked up. He grinned, lips pressing back down to that neck as Keith groaned and surged forward, demanded Lance’s mouth because if he kept making those fucking sounds Keith would finish before Lance and that wasn’t right.

Lance broke away at the last moment, nails digging into Keith’s shoulders as he chased the wet slide of Shiro’s fist and pressed down to impale himself on Keith’s cock, legs long past exhausted and shaking through the movements. He came just like that, with no rhythm and a broken groan that sounded like what he was doing hurt but they all knew better. Everything released with it, including Keith’s own pleasure that was ripped out of him because Lance wouldn’t fucking stop riding him even after he’d spilled across Keith’s chest. Unlike his boyfriend Keith finished silent, just the heavy pant of his harsh breathe and his eyes slammed shut, riding it out and scrambling to grab at Lance’s hips to stop him because everything was too fucking sensitive and he could hear Shiro’s pleased hum and feel his fingers over Keith’s own and he was smiling like an idiot, could feel his lips betraying him even as he tried to stop.

For a long time, it was just the sound of the shower and their shared breathing, Shiro the only one not exhausted which was a joke in its own because the rest of his day had been a lot longer and harder than this.

He planted one last kiss to Lance’s neck and pulled away, stretching and frowning as he knocked the dial on the shower wall to hotter but it seemed to do nothing but pump the same lukewarm down his back.

“Been in here for a while? I’d reprimand the incorrect use of my hot water but I’m too tired to care. Keith - you ok with him? I’ll just be a minute.” Shiro turned, hair already full of suds to make sure they were in fact, ok. His hands stilled mid wash, taking in the sight of his husband and boyfriend tucked together in the very shower Shiro built, never expecting to have anyone else but himself occupy that space.

Keith had managed to extract himself from Lance but was quickly consumed again, Lance’s full weight resting in his lap now, letting the water wash away what they’d done. His back pressed against the wall as Lance pressed himself to Keith’s chest, both too sore and tired and content to do much else. His eyes were closed but Lance’s were open looking over at Shiro, cheek resting against the top of a pale shoulder, a lazy smile there as fingers danced over his back, rubbing in no particular pattern.

Nothing was said as Shiro went back to his shower, washing away the soap and shampoo, facing them still and feeling those blue eyes never leaving him, Keith’s fingers never stilling as they soothed over Lance.

Eventually, the knob was turned so they were left in nothing but warm air and Shiro wrapped his waist in the one towel he remembered for himself, eyebrow raised at the other two who apparently didn’t think that far ahead.

“Gonna go to bed there or do you both want some help?”

 Keith’s eyes finally snapped open and his hands stilled, looking over at Shiro with a huff and a failed attempt of trying to get Lance to un-barnacle his body off. “Depends. Think you can handle all this yourself?”

“Possibly, although - I’d say you did a good job without me.” At that, Keith finally did smile - one reserved only for Shiro, a different sort of pleasure running it’s path through him; praise from the one it mattered most.

“Just cuz you fucked me real good doesn’t mean I can’t hear you. Also, m’hungry now and I don’t wanna walk and I want waffles and Shiro has to carry me.” Lance turned and eyed the man before pressing his nose back to the crook of Keith’s neck, the grin obvious with how wide his lips stretched against skin.

And how could Shiro deny that? Keith rolled his eyes but his hands gave him away, the slow, reverent trail of nails along Lance’s back, his own grin that never quiet fell away as he raised an eyebrow, one hand stalling to gesture to Lance still plastered on top of him before leaning in and ghosting against Lance’s ear.

“Tsk, think you can just demand everything now? You didn’t even suck Shiro off, just nutted and fell asleep on me…” Keith earned the pinch to his nipple as Lance leaned back off of him, a pout meeting his gaze that wasn’t completely sincere.

“Shut up, fine - I’ll make the waffles but I _do_ still demand the rest.”

Shiro smiled at the exchange in front of him, smiled as Lance made them waffles in just a towel at distinctly not a correct waffle consumption hour, and even smiled when they tossed pillows at each other fighting who’d get the middle that night in bed. He resolved it quickly, shoving himself between them and swatting away hands from his boxers that kept insisting he didn’t get a proper turn in the shower, only satisfying them both with the promise of something better tomorrow.

He kept to himself the fact that it already was tomorrow and that he couldn’t think of something better than exactly what he already had.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with some SHANCE. Sup, sorry for the delay- I've been writing this chapter on and off after mulling over it in my head for a long while. Of course, everything I write ends up double the length and slides around into stuff I never planned BUT thats the fun of it all, right????
> 
> Unbeta-ed, please excuse terrible grammar mistakes if I missed any.
> 
> I realized I never posted this but- I'm on tumblr and twitter, same name:  
> http://meeokie.tumblr.com/  
> https://twitter.com/meeokie

“Where’s Keith?” Shiro turned upon hearing the familiar slap of flip flops against worn wood, his concentration broken and replaced with wondering why both of them weren’t here like they said they’d be back at the cabin.

“Storage, I think? Said something about inner tubes? I dunno, he told me not to wait up, but he shouldn’t be long.” The slaps stopped, Lance pausing to rest next to Shiro’s side and look out where the other man’s gaze had returned to.

It was unfortunate that it took this long, in Lance’s opinion. So many of his visits happened at night, or they didn’t get home until it just started to get dark. Shiro and Keith liked the porch, liked to look at the stars and light the firepit and relax still close to home. You can imagine Lance’s face when Shiro casually mentioned a good portion of the land from the cabin down to the water was his, and then oh, by the way, there’s steps and a trail and a little dock on the lake. Who would mention something so unimportant as that, right?

The next morning Lance slung himself half over the second story porch, peering down and yelling loud enough to wake both of them that yes, indeed all of those things existed and they needed to go see them preferably fast and right now. Fast and right now might have been Keith’s sexual preferences but they did not align with 6:47 AM on a Saturday morning. Shiro shifted Lance’s forgotten pillow over his head and pretended not to hear.

They’d let him explore a few times already but today was special; none of them had work, it was unusually cool for midsummer, and today it was somehow slightly overcast but the sun kept peeking through just enough that it wasn’t going to rain.

Today Lance let all his stress fall off the shelf; summer classes, the coffee shop, the fact that he remembered his swim trunks but forgot to pack underwear and was too small for Shiro’s but somehow slightly too big for Keith’s.

Shiro hadn’t said anything to Lance’s reply, eyes locked somewhere over the water, hands on his hips and looking exactly like Lance liked to imagine him- shirtless, sporting a sleeves tan, the wind ruffling his hair and the stubble on his face two days past due. His swim trunks were nothing important, faded black with white accents, longer than Lance’s but still tight in all the right places.

Two different blues were interrupted by the horizontal line of trees, the smallest pinpoints of vague color far off that Lance belatedly realized were houses on the opposite side of the lake. He tried to count them, squinting as if it would help and stopped the moment he felt a strong hand curl around his back, tugging him just a bit to stand closer.

Shiro never looked down and Lance tried to count the months it had been as he did with the houses across the lake, the number available if he tried but hard to pinpoint. He couldn’t even remember when it became official, when they slid from maybe a one-night thing into maybe a few more nights and then into Lance becoming a constant thing. As in, they both wanted him- he wasn’t just some side thing for the husband that felt a little caged and reckless and the other counterpart to the marriage said it was ok to have a fling.

He still felt moments of awe, like Keith would just come up to him one day and tell him he’d been caught on Candid Camera and this was all just some extremely long hoax. That they enjoyed the time together but maybe it was just about the sex because they were already married, they already had love, so what was the point of chasing something else?

“Thought you weren’t going to worry today, I do remember someone declaring it loudly in bed this morning.” 

Shiro was looking down at him with that perfect, knowing smile, haloed by pine trees and light grey clouds and just the smallest ray of sunshine fighting for freedom. Lance wondered if he knew or if he was oblivious to how nice it was just breathing the same air. He also wondered when the honeymoon phase of this relationship was going to end because frankly his dick and his heart were exhausted and he hadn’t even gone on an actual honeymoon because he, Lance, was not married to anything.

Besides, of course, making both of them as happy as he could every second they got time together. He wouldn’t be in college forever, hell, he probably wouldn’t be in this town forever and the thought of an uncertain future, one that might not include Shiro and Keith made his stomach do unpleasant things and his emotions divide in a way that felt like they were ripping and splitting.

“I-I’m not. Not worrying, just thinking. It’s easy to do out here, I didn’t even mean to.”

Shiro didn’t push, he never did with these sorts of things even though he loved to propel Lance off the edge of metaphorical cliffs when no one had any clothes on. Instead, his grip around Lance’s waist drifted, fingers skirting along and then pressing against his lower back, moving in slow, lazy circles because it was always obvious when the other was worrying, even when the opposite tumbled out of his mouth.

“We use to come out here a lot, just me and Keith, when the house was just the garage and storage shed.”

Lance looked away from the lake up to Shiro, expecting to catch his gaze but the older man was still focused on the scenery in front of him. It was rare Lance got a story of their past with only one of them present, so he offered a small nod and looked back, hoping Shiro would continue past that.

“Keith didn’t care, of course, he’d probably wouldn’t even if we still just lived like that. You know, the porch was his idea...I would have been fine with something simple but he wanted it and I couldn’t say no. Told me it should be big enough for the future, although I didn’t really know what that meant at the time.” Shiro broke his gaze and looked down at Lance, fingers making a path up his spine and then resting a palm at the back of his neck before he continued.

“I suppose he didn’t know either, well, at least not as far as he’d planned.”

Lance wasn’t an idiot. Well, Lance wasn’t an idiot all the time; he recognized when something important was happening as long as there were enough signs and this- this was a moment. They were having a moment and he fought down the extreme urge to blurt out a cheesy ‘Surprise!’ and then be engulfed in enough regret that jumping in the lake and drowning seemed like a good idea.

“So...you came down here you mean? Because the porch wasn’t there yet.” Sometimes he could even connect the dots, all by himself. Lance gave himself a silent A+ when Shiro nodded.

“When we were still dating. I’m sure the chairs are somewhere in storage rusted to the point that no one should ever use them again, but, yes- right here.” A natural pause came, Shiro taking a moment to decide how to explain why he brought all of it up as his fingers moved, rubbing into the shorter hairs near Lance’s neck.

“Keith- he’s hard to read sometimes, near impossible back then. Some of that is why I chased him, the quiet, the mystery at the time. We’d come down here and I’d wait once I learned that if there was enough time, and if he was comfortable, he had a lot to say.” A crack of a smile, some small memory surely crossing Shiro’s mind that Lance caught, and he found himself grinning just from being able to see it.

“I suppose we’ve swapped this location for the porch, although I think I forgot how beautiful it is right on the water. It’s nice to share with someone else, nice to see Keith open up without fifteen minutes of silence.” A thumb brushed up against Lance’s ear and god, he was listening but that pulled a content little sigh and just the hint of a shiver, his shoulder pressing against Shiro’s own.

“It’s just because I know all his buttons. He’s still plenty mysterious and whatever, he only lets his best secrets out after I give him what he wants.”

Shiro hummed in agreement and then with his hand at Lance’s neck, pushed him closer, angling them together so they could face each other, Lance’s back to the lake.

“Does he now? Is that why you give him what he wants all the time?” Shiro ghosted his other hand down Lance’s side, stopping to rest at the top of equally faded blue swim trunks.

“I don’t know what you mean, I hardly ever do that. It's more fun to tease him, I mean, you know. You’ve seen how he gets.”

Shiro pressed forward but not in a gentle way, causing Lance to take a step or so back, the other man’s fingers still gripping where they’d been. He did it again, this time slower, like a silent apology for being too forward and smoothing over Lance’s apprehension.

It wasn’t out of character; Shiro was like this often. Casual and content one moment and then something clicked, something Lance or Keith said or did, sometimes not even obvious enough to either of them until Shiro pounced. So it wasn’t unheard of, wasn’t weird when strong fingers slipped past the band of Lance’s shorts just a few inches at his hip, wasn’t a cause for concern when the light caress of fingers at the back of his neck became more of a firm hold.

And what did Lance do? What _could_ Lance do when the mere presence of Shiro still made him nervous like that first day he served him coffee, still had him fumbling to say a complete sentence when his mind was screaming more than three different replies, most of the time some of them devolving to just ‘please fuck me right now’ and/or ‘can I make you breakfast for the rest of our lives?’.

So he did what he did best- classic Lance, melting in Shiro’s grip, yielding before the fight even started. At least he was a little bolder now, like 3% better at defense against whatever deal with the devil Shiro agreed to in order to have such strong powers over people like him.

His hands came up to brace on Shiro’s shirtless chest, tilting forward enough just to feel the grip on his hair better, the natural reaction of those fingers pressing tighter against resistance. That earned Lance a knowing grin and a pleased hum, Shiro clearly satisfied. He leaned forward while still holding Lance in place, making no effort to save the other from the scratchy press of stubble as he slid close to press lips to ear.

“I have seen how he gets, and I know most of the time it is your fault. I know you like to push him until he can’t help but put you in your place, and I know you love every second of it, don’t you, Lance?”

Now that, _that_ earned a real shiver down his back and an audible swallow, Lance realizing how easily he slipped into dangerous territory. How many times was he going to tell himself it wasn’t fair? It’s not like he hadn’t built up some shields just….opening the door was so much easier than slowly chipping at the wall. When it came to Shiro it didn’t fucking matter, that man punched right through like everything Lance crafted was made of dollar store tissue paper.

“I-...”

He never got a chance to defend against that one, not like there was anything Lance could say that Shiro didn’t already know. It was only a split second, almost disorienting in how Shiro’s smile went from predatory to one of honest enjoyment before the hands so delicately wrapped around him moved, grabbed Lance’s own off his chest and then shoved him back, hard enough that Lance stumbled and gawked and tried to grab something but it was too late. It was far too late for him and the resounding splash echoed loud around them, probably enough for Keith to hear. 

Shiro, that _fucker_ , had teased him into being vulnerable, backed him up against the edge of the dock and then pushed like it was nothing. Like it was his plan all along somehow even through their heart-to-heart about Keith and the lake and the fucking porch and the future and…

Lance popped out of the water a good handful of seconds later than he would normally, still shocked that Shiro, of all people, SHIRO, so calmly serious most of the time and then silently commanding like he owned the socks Lance wore over to his house, actually just pushed him into a lake and was doubled over on the dock laughing his ass off.

“SH-SHIRO, fuck, Shiro are you, I can’t believe! You just, we were, Shiro stop laughing! Oh my god.”

Lance, despite all his hidden grace that seemed to pop up randomly when no one could ever expect it, currently was not displaying that as the mere concept of Shiro doing what he just did was causing him to forget how swimming worked. He flopped in the water, the first few seconds aftershock shifting into anger and then he couldn’t help himself at all because Shiro was still there, holding his stomach and wiping a stray tear off and losing it all over again the moment he looked over at Lance, like a cat that fell in the tub and was pissed about it but knew it was its own fault.

Before he could consult his face about it, a wide grin spread, one that matched Shiro’s and Lance felt himself laugh, if not for the situation then certainly just because Shiro was still going- couldn’t seem to catch his breath even as he shuffled himself to sit on the edge of the dock, feet dipping down into the warm water to brace on the metal ladder.

Lance finally collected himself enough to remember that oh, he could swim just fine and so he did, arms pushing slowly out as he floated over to where Shiro sat, still wiping at his eyes and smiling so brightly that Lance would let the other push him off this very dock every day if he could keep looking at him like this.

“Shiro. What if I didn’t know how to swim? I could have _died_.” Lance’s tone was clearly mocking and he tried and failed to hide his own little smile at the tease but Shiro still reached out, one hand gripping the old metal of the ladder at the top and the other reaching out for Lance. 

“I’m sorry I just, it was too easy, I saw the chance and I had to take it. You’ll forgive me, won’t you? You know I’d never let you drown.”

Lance pretended to pout, although the impact of it wasn’t as great because it was too difficult to cross his arms across his chest still floating in the water, right out of Shiro’s reach.

“Mean. I’d never do that to you. You’d never do that to Keith!”

Shiro realized he was playing hard to get and sat back, both hands resting on the ladder now as he kicked his feel lazily through the small ripples Lance was making in the water.

“What makes you think I haven’t already? You think I haven’t spent years teasing him the split second I see his guard down? It’s just easier with you. Your guards _always_ down with me. ”

Lance tried to think of something clever to say, anything to wipe that knowing grin off Shiro’s face even though it was unfairly handsome. But nothing came because Shiro was right, at least when it came to all of this. Lance had plenty of guards up, specifically around his heart and a few choice words, but they were ones that would be invisible to Keith and Shiro; he made sure of that before they were built.

“Uh huh, sure. Whatever you say, Shiro. You know- I’m pretty good at swimming, I could stay out here for hours, probably faster than you too.” So he did what he knew how to- deflect and tease, moving slowly just out of Shiro’s reach casually as if he were floating idly alone.

“Lance, come here. You know I’d never do anything to truly hurt you, I was just kidding. Want me to promise I’ll never push you in the lake again? I will. I swear it, just come over here.”

Weak. Trapped again in that soothing voice and those fucking, who said it was ok for him to do the puppy-dog eyes too? That was actually unfair; giving someone that amount of ungodly power, how did Keith even manage to get Shiro to chase him? How did he resist? Lance couldn’t believe he was granted more than a minute of Shiro’s focus, even now when he woke up aching and sore from riding the same man’s dick all night.

He was wading over before he knew it, right where Shiro wanted him, always.

“You promise?” Another fake pout, Lance inching as slow as he could possibly swim in the water, gaze flicking to see if Shiro’s hands would reach out and try to catch him.

“I promise baby, unless you want me to throw you in the lake, not as a surprise.” Lance hesitated, only dipping forward when the older man made no effort to move; just sitting and pleading for Lance to come back.

And so he did, trailing through the warmth, unable to hold his pout because the smile that wanted to break free was too overwhelming. Lance slotted himself between Shiro’s open legs, slippery fingers reaching up and out to grab the ladder as his feet connected with the rungs below them. He moved to hoist himself up, eyebrows pinching together when Shiro finally moved to press a hand to his chest, pushing him back down in the water slowly.

“Shiro, you wanted me over here, let me up.” His fingers slid down the metal, Shiro still pushing without explanation but boxing him in, knees hovering up above the surface of the lake with Lance’s head not far off.

“I did want you over here. Right here.” Without another word Shiro trailed his hand up from Lance’s chest, curving it around wet, tanned skin until his fingers scratched at those damp brown locks, pushing him even further in until there was nowhere else to go.

“Relax sweetheart- you told me you loved the water.”

Blue eyes darted down, realizing their positioning, Lance easily holding to the ladder and his feet secure on the lower rungs but Shiro’s sitting form blocking any easy way to get up and out. His legs stayed splayed for Lance to occupy, only his calves and lower dipped into the water and feet bracing on the ladder as well, one hand still rubbing soothing circles against the base of Lance’s neck. 

Oh. _Oh._

Lance looked back up, shyness peeking through as he met Shiro’s eyes, confirming what was about to happen with how he was staring down at him. It was a look Lance had learned, one that made him feel overheated whenever it was directed at him but he never wanted it to stray, unless of course it was meant for Keith as well.

“Yes Sir.”

His voice came soft, both an agreement to Lance enjoying bodies of water and also a confirmation he understood what was about to happen.

“Mmn, try again. You know what I want.” Shiro shook his head slightly, the hand still in Lance’s hair now holding and tilting so he couldn’t look away. Shiro watched as understanding slid across the boy’s face, the way his eyes closed for a moment even as he wanted to duck his head and hide in embarrassment but could not.

Lance instinctively shifted forward, Shiro’s grip letting him, as if he needed the older man to shield him from something, like someone would hear the filthy thing he was about to spill.

“Y-Yes Daddy.” This one came even softer, almost a whisper but Shiro heard it, watched how hard it was for Lance to say out loud, the shame obvious in his eyes paired with the acute pleasure that came with such a secret. It would be the wrong sort of mean to not indulge him in praise.

“There’s my good boy.” It was easier for Shiro of course, smiling when Lance nuzzled against his hand and finally was allowed to hide his face, his demeanor soft and gentle but the tension clear in the way his hands gripped tighter to the ladder. It was still new among them; practically uncharted territory they’d been exploring when the chance presented itself naturally.

It started as a joke. A month or so back, in the thick of summer humidity, all three of them sat with sweaty thighs to uncomfortable sun-bleached tables. Lance had insisted, of course, begged they at least try to make it once during the season he deemed the best for garbage small town ice cream. And so they went, Shiro almost unbothered by the heat while Keith bitched between bites of his styrofoam cup full of rocky road. Lance could care less about the criss-cross metal seats dipped in some sort of ugly, always tacky plastic glued to his legs. He didn’t care that his vanilla banana swirl struggled to come out of the machine in a solid state or how many napkins were already stuck to his wrist on the table.

All that mattered in the moment was that they were all there, together, enjoying a normal summer outing.

Shiro had opted for a combination of what Lance and Keith had; a bowl where he dumped his pistachio chocolate chip and a waffle cone jammed into the side of it. Something about the heat index and melting probability and a cup was safer; it didn’t matter, Lance wasn’t listening.

Lance, in fact, was testing his luck, so enthusiastic about finally getting his boyfriends to go to the ‘Twisty Cream’ that he wasn’t really paying much attention to the part where he was supposed to be shoving it in his mouth.

“The only reason I haven’t died yet is because the classroom has better AC than my apartment, well- my room, I mean. There’s no point wasting money cooling the rest of the place with half of the guys gone and everyone who’s left having different schedules. The teachers whatever I guess, not a hardass so it could be worse but…”

“Lance, your cones dripping halfway down your arm. I know the trucks not anything great to look at but you absolutely aren’t allowed in her with sticky fingers I can’t handle it.”

The laugh from the other corner of the table was not missed, Lance turning from Shiro to Keith, glaring at him for being an ass. It wasn’t his fault it was so damn hot today, or that ice cream melted in general. He turned back to Shiro and held the older man’s gaze before dipping his mouth to the corner of his palm, licking the melted dribble as lewdly as possible just in case neither of them was getting the point.

“Lance.” There was no amusement in the tone of Shiro’s voice, his spoon dropping into his bowl and pointing the ‘you’re going to be in trouble in three seconds’ stare at him.

“God. Fine. Sorry _Dad_.”

Now they were both staring at him, Keith with a raised eyebrow sucking a clump of his rocky road off his spoon, Shiro looking like he was mid-word into some reply but stopped completely on pause. The length of silence was far from normal which, of course, made Lance antsy and self-conscious and needing to fill the space with sound.

“What? Do you prefer _Daddy_ instead?”

God. It was meant as a tease, a joke, a ha ha ‘I get it’ and then they could go back to eating ice cream but fucking hell, did everything go from silent awkward to...whatever this was.

“Holy shit dude, you can’t just say that out loud at a fucking ice cream shack.” Keith was the first to break it, his voice wavering between making fun of Lance and some semblance of seriousness. That last part was what Lance was worried about. He had no idea what expression was currently presenting itself on his face but he watched Keith slide his bowl away, the majority of it gone, and shoot an unreadable glance over at Shiro, causing Lance to do the same.

Now, Lance was a grown man, technically. He was way past getting put in the corner or having his favorite toy taken away but the way Shiro was staring at him right now- Lance was fairly sure he was about to be grounded for a week with no TV. That or the alternative, in which Shiro dragged him behind the Twisty Cream and forced Lance to take a different sort of cream. Yeah, Lance wasn’t going to dwell on that; that was for a later date, one of those nights he would be soaking up his AC in his bed alone.

Without any real sense of resolution, Shiro simply dug his spoon back into his ice cream, eyes still locked onto Lance, knowing full well that despite his still casual composure on the outside, the boy was absolutely squirming internally.

Shiro bit into his partially soggy waffle cone, licking a stray drop of melted ice cream from his lips before offering a nonchalant “Finish your ice cream Lance. We can discuss what I _prefer_ when we get home.”

Lance had never speed-licked an ice cream cone to completion with a boner before that day, but there was a first time for everything.

“You want Daddy’s cock?” Shiro was already pressing at the front of his swim trunks with his free hand, the instant arousal of this brand of play getting to him as much and as fast as it did to Lance. It was a trick question; not really one at all because Lance _would_ be getting it no matter what he responded with.

And boy, did he respond. They were still feeling each other out, letting the phrase slip sparingly and when the moment felt right; not something either of them felt the need to force. Shiro usually prompted, more comfortable in guiding Lance through both new and known but there had been a few moments where it was on the tip of his tongue; he just couldn’t seem to follow through yet. That and the fact he was still too embarrassed to say it in front of Keith beside the slip during the ice cream date. For the time being it was just between them, Shiro forever gentle with waiting and calming Lance when it seemed overwhelming.

The smallest, softest nod came, Shiro feeling it against the palm that still held Lance’s head. He didn’t push, knowing well that even if Lance was feeling the moment sometimes words failed him, an honest shyness that Shiro could never fault the boy for; they had a system in place if anyone needed a breather or to stop completely and that security was always promised.

Nothing else needed to be said. Shiro dipped his hand down into his swim trunks, Lance opened his eyes, gaze going right to the sight before him, watching intently as Shiro pulled his half hard cock out on display, fingers tugging up and down slowly. The grip in Lance’s hair grew tighter just for a moment, a small nudge for him to move forward and then it eased up, fingers petting through the shorter strands near the base of his neck.

It was a weird position- not anything Lance would have ever fantasized about but now that he was here he could see the attraction. His grasp slipped from the ladder bars, wet hands resting on the tops of Shiro’s knees and he looked up long enough to catch that intense gaze on him, a man somehow full of patience yet intense desire that made want to give him everything as quick as possible. 

At least, that's what it felt like for Lance. Every damn time.

He felt good here, real fucking good. The water was warm, nearly free of movement, no waves to unsettle him and his feet stuck to the ladder without any issue. Shiro was solid in front of him, anchoring and steady and so perfectly fearless about what he wanted and how, like it was totally normal to be slow jerking himself off in front of his boyfriend on a random dock in the middle of his properly. Maybe it was. Lance was not the right sort of person to be judging that.

The shyness dripped right out of him, tentative at first as he shifted forward, wrapped his lips around Shiro like he had so many times before, everything familiar to him helping to ease away those lingering worries that started when he set foot on the dock. Shiro’s smell, mixed with lake water and pine trees, the weight of his hand encouraging Lance at the back of his neck, even his thighs under long, gripping fingers, trying to get the leverage he needed to sink further down.

That word invoked a different mood and Lance couldn’t begin to explain how or why but he didn’t really give a fuck. He let it wash over him, let Shiro’s half-moaned “Fuck yeah, such a good boy.” go right to his head and dick, let it encourage him to sink lower, curl his fingers into fists against Shiro’s shorts and press down, all the way, sinking further and further until all that mattered was Shiro.

Lance let himself get lost, his sole focus on the length in his mouth and repeating his up and down and pushing until he felt the tickle of hair against his nose. Over and over, the water sloshing against his stomach, the little whimpers and moans coming from him completely unheard because all he needed to hear was Shiro, all he needed to feel was Shiro. The word drifted in his mind on some untimed loop, always in Shiro’s voice, always causing a little pang of need, like all of this was urgent somehow, like Lance needed to push down more, swirl his tongue against the tip like he knew Shiro loves, suck down on his cock when it possibly could not go any deeper.

“Sweetheart, Baby calm down, I’m not going anywhere, not gonna last if you keep...Hey.” The tug was a bit more forceful this time, pulling Lance up for air and the whine that came with it was absolutely wrecked. Lance didn’t _want_ to stop, he wanted Shiro, wanted to feel his mouth full and the water sway beneath him and that hand in his hair pressing him down and holding him there, right where he belonged. 

“Daddy,” It was all he could get out, as if that one word would explain the wholeness of what Lance was feeling, everything swirling in his mind and his intense need to provide pleasure right now. The way his eyebrows pushed together, his wet, red lips downturned just enough, the very beginnings of tears collecting in the corners of his eyes as he looked up; just a list of things that were completely fucking Shiro in ways they’d barely scratched previously.

He wished in that moment he could share this with Keith so his husband could witness the impressive devotion that poured from the boy in front of him but they weren’t there yet, at least not in this specific realm.

“Shh, I know. It’s ok, I know what you want.” It was heaven- the look of relief that crossed his face as Shiro gently guided Lance’s head back down, as if the mere thought of being unable to finish this would cause him extreme distress.

Lance fell right back into place, pushed his body as close as it could possibly get, struggled out a muffled moan when Shiro’s thighs pressed against his sides and caged him in. That hand kept guiding and the other one joined, thumbed around stretched lips and smoothed over an eyebrow, deceptively gentle as the other picked up pace, Shiro nearing his limit far faster than he’d planned.

It’s not like he could help it; anyone would probably fail at lasting any respectable length of time with what was between Shiro’s legs right now. He could tell the boy was deep, all of his concentration and need obvious as he pushed himself with little to no care about his own limit, the tears that had been held at bay finally tracking down his cheeks from exertion. Shiro wiped one away, his own breath shuddering as he tried to control the snap of his hips wanting to fuck up into that tight heat.

A few more guided thrusts and then Shiro’s palm finally did push Lance all the way down and held him firm, one right at the back of his head and the other rubbing fingers into the base of the boy’s neck. “That’s it, good boy, such a...fuck, so good, take it baby, all of it.”

Outwardly, considering all of what they had done in the past, what was happening now was fairly tame in comparison. Shiro knew though; the tense of Lance’s shoulders as he struggled with himself to stay pressed down until the moment of relent, when he let his throat swallow and swallow, unable to let anything drip elsewhere because Shiro held him down in place for exactly that reason. It was more intense that it seemed and he couldn’t help but pet through damp brown locks as he finished without a big production, just a final long sigh and full body relax before he slowly pulled the boy off.

Lance was pulled up and settled into Shiro’s lap before he could really understand what was happening, his legs working without his consent to aid his travel up the ladder. The hand that held him down wrapped securely around his back, tugging gently until he felt lips press against his own, slow and calm, unhurried for any reaction back. Some part of him was aware of his own cock pressing against his swim trunks, his whole lower half dripping all over Shiro’s lap but he could hardly be bothered right now with the slow, casual movement of Shiro’s tongue dipping past his lips and tasting himself as he claimed the boy and assured him he was pleased and wanted.

“Damn, I leave you two alone for like, fifteen minutes. Jesus Shiro, what the fuck did you do to him?”

Neither of them had been listening or else they would have heard Keith arrive at the dock, barefoot and somehow holding three inflated inner tubes ready for the lake. He let them fall to the slightly warped wood, the bounce causing Lance to pull away from Shiro’s mouth, his hands dangling off the older man’s shoulders as he tried to catch up to what Keith said and failed.

His gaze was slow to process, drifting from red swim trunks and pale knees, sliding over bare abs and defined shoulders until he finally made sense of Keith’s face, his hair pulled in a sloppy low ponytail as his eyes trying to figure out where the fuck Lance was because it wasn’t this planet.

Lance licked his lips, leaned past Shiro’s shoulders and waved his fingers in the air, barely brushing against Keith’s shorts and giving the saddest, earnest pout and pity filled whine.

“Come’re. Lemme blow you Keith, I already went swimming.”

That earned a chuckle from below him, Shiro basking in his afterglow and unable to hide his enjoyment of Lance’s demeanor, his energy and willingness shining through even if he was barely able to keep himself up with Shiro taking most of his weight.

“Nothing, just some uh, bonding time, you know. We’ve had plenty on this dock before, right Keith?” Shiro didn’t need to turn to see Keith’s blush, knowing full well some of the completely filthy things they’d done here before the porch was built around the house.

“Yeah Keith, lemme bond with you.” Lance near slurred his sentence, his cheek coming to rest against Shiro’s shoulder and his hands falling limp but he was smiling, content and warm and Shiro kept running his hands along his back.

It seemed like Keith took a long time; neither Shiro nor Lance commented on it because it wasn’t really needed in the moment. Eventually, he stepped forward, crouched low enough to get eye level with Lance and ran his nails against his scalp, ruffling the half-dry hair there and grinning to himself as Shiro continued to pet him as well.

“Later sweetheart. I’m gonna tie the tubes together, wanna float around the lake for a bit? I know you’ll like it.” A rare, soft response from the one that didn’t like to gift them often, accepted without a tease as Lance sighed and leaned into Keith’s touch.

“Ok, but I wanna be in the middle.” Lance let his eyes crack open just a bit, catching the surprising way Keith looked down at him. Adoration? Contentment? Something like that - it didn’t matter. Lance felt right.

Shiro tilted slightly, his lips pressing close to the side of Lance’s head, eyes searching and grabbing Keith’s attention. “Of course baby, you can always have the middle.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy, I wanted to get this out for Halloween but you know *life*. This is essentially part 1 of 2 and the break is pretty natural for where I stopped but I felt I should at least post this since I have it, considering its near 5k words and...yeah. I am working on the second part and plan to get it up before the end of the month!
> 
> Also, Pidge and Hunk in this chapter! Halloween Party! Fun times. Enjoy!

“Lance, what the hell man, I thought you said you were a rabbit or something, not…. _that_.”

“Oh wow, I think I can see your whole ass. Gross dude.”

“Firstly, Hunk- I’m a bunny, obviously, have you seriously never seen Mean Girls? And secondly, Pidge- my whole ass looks fantastic in this and you can’t deny that fact.”

Said _bunny_ stood in the doorframe of someone’s house, absolutely not belonging to either of his friends and 100% for sure already too full and loud for this particular street but no one could say shit about it tonight on the count of a certain holiday. A pair of black high heels dangled from long, frigid fingers as Lance shifted from one side to the other, twisting like he could actually see anything of his own ass past the poofy white tail glued to fake black leather. Like a smart college student, Lance had pre-gamed back at his own apartment, google mapped the house and decided that he could totally walk fifteen minutes down a few blocks in heels he’d never worn and without a jacket. The booze kept him warm all of three minutes and the heels were abandoned not much longer after.

But here he stood, in all of his lengthy glory, clad in a skin-tight bodysuit that he had to pin in the back since he had no tits, thankful that it at least came with a set of full tights. The headband ears matched his tail, one standing straight up and the other half flopped down, all tied together perfectly with a matching black and white choker. His phone was wedged front and center where, if he had tits, they would normally be.

Neither of them looked particularly impressed so, “Come on, Allura said I looked almost as good as she did in this last year, cut me some slack and get me a drink, we’re gettin messy tonight boys.”

Pidge shoved one fuzzy hand to the screen door to close it and another to thrust her half gone whatever the fuck she was drinking into Lance’s own. “Fine just, don’t bend over. You’re my friend and I’d do a lot for you but I just don’t particularly want to see your balls tonight ok? I’m not drunk enough yet.”

“Yeah that’s basically a curse I’d never wish on you Pidge, I’m speaking from experience.” From the look on Hunk’s face, it was clear he was currently recalling said memory of balls.

“Hunk you know I didn’t do it on purpose that time and Pidge I know you don’t want to see _anyone's_ balls and besides I have a thong on so like,...”

“Not. Drunk. Enough. Yet.” And then Pidge bolted and Hunk did that nervous, half-forced laugh and followed after her, leaving Lance to wade through the sea of bodies after them.

“So like, you’re a, uh...furry or?” They’d stolen a perfect spot, huddled in the dining room whoever the fuck’s house this was, crammed into the window seat overlooking the backyard which was just as packed full as the inside was. It wasn’t a huge sound buffer but it was close the kitchen, therefore close to the free booze and snacks, and far enough away from the living room that they could actually hear each other over the loud constant of music and people yelling.

“Wow, yup- you got me. Came to a Halloween party in my fursuit.” Pidge took a large swing of what she’d declared ‘spooky juice’ from the kitchen and stared Lance down over the rim of her red solo cup. “Have you never seen Gremlins? You know, mid 80s? Don’t feed the Mogwai after midnight?”

“Oh my god. You’re a parody of yourself. All these years calling you a gremlin and you fucking one-upped us and whole-assed it.” The cup in Lance’s hand teetered dangerously before he recovered it, chugging down a good amount so it would hopefully spill less the next time he inevitably waved it around again. He was feelin’ it, Mr. Crabs, already.

“I think the only one here that whole-assed it is you Lance.” Ah, there it was, the gremlin chuckle.

“Guys, please, can we stop talking about Lance’s ass? I mean, let's talk about my costume instead ok? It’s way better.” Hunk did this thing where he flipped his sunglasses forward that had been sitting backward against one of the shittiest blond spiky wigs Lance had ever seen and then had the audacity to finger guns with a full cup of what seemed to be five-dollar-a-handle rum and a splash of Coke.

“Uhhhh….you,…’re, the dude from Smash Mouth?” Lance squinted like that would do anything to help him see better, eyes staring at the terrible flame print bowling shirt and dragging up to a cheap ball chain necklace and badly drawn on two-toned facial hair.

“Dude no, come on really? Flavortown? Out of bounds?” Hunk’s smile faltered as he tried to finger gun even harder, Pidge shaking next to him in an attempt to contain her laugh.

A pause passed where Lance squinted harder, like he was actually trying to recall from the depths of memory any useful information. “So...that uh, loud guy. From Food Network? The one that's always just, eating….everything and yelling right?”

“Come on dude, you just described half of the shows on that channel. I can’t believe you don’t know this, we’ve sat for literal hours watching this garbage together!” Hunk’s finger guns wobbled and deflated, Pidge offering a few condolence pats to the back.

“Ok, ok well, _Hunk_ , maybe I don’t remember his stupid name because I’m barely coherent any time we hang out, since, considering, the fact, in which that, you always smoke me up and I can’t tell the difference between large yelling food man number one and number eighty-seven!” This time Lance actually did spill his spooky juice, the bright red near invisible as it slid down his pleather tits and dripped onto the hardwood below.

“Both of you are disasters, you know that right? Hunk, next time just come equipped with barbecue chimichangas or whatever the shit he eats and throw them directly at Lance’s ass.”

“You! Like you can talk! You are the most disastrous person I’ve ever met. Have you had your bi-weekly shower recently because I can’t tell, I bet your furry onesie smells like farts and…” Lance stopped mind drunken tirade, his phone vibrating twice tucked tight against his chest. He held up one finger for dramatic pause and slowly wiggled the device out, staring at the blank screen dumbly for a moment until he hit the home button.

_*thought you were gunna send pics whats the holdup*_

Shit. He _was_ going to send pics, lots and lots of them before the party but had somehow got sidetracked between checking himself out for too long in the mirror and then realizing he was already thirty minutes late and still hadn’t left. It was terrible really, not even one Instagram post of this perfection, not even a selfie at that. Maybe he shouldn’t have pre-gamed so hard.

Lance didn’t always have great drunken plans but if you asked him personally he would deny that and counter that every plan ever planned while slightly inebriated was solid if not perfect. Well, besides the one time he and Hunk stole a Target shopping cart and decided that was the best way to get back to campus. It wasn’t.

“Ok. Ok listen, I know both of you have had a good….however long it’s been since I’ve been staring at my phone to craft perfectly painful comebacks but, I need to piss. Like I needed to piss five minutes ago but I didn’t want to be that guy but _now_ I am that guy so. Where’s. The piss palace.”

“Walk back through the kitchen and down the hall. Closets on the left are laundry, keep going and the door’s on the right. Only about a fourth of the party has figured out there’s a bathroom there so, your chances are pretty good for a low wait time. Just know that by the time you get back I’m going to have an _even better_ comeback and it’s going to sting so bad.” Pidge punctuated this with a firm jab of pointer finger to Lance’s flat as all hell chest and then forcibly shoved Lance in the direction in case he’d already forgotten.

“Don’t fall in, I’m not saving you this time considering you can’t even name my costume. Hurts dude, deep down.” Hunk faked, or maybe not faked, an intense heart clench before ruining it with his perfect grin and red solo cup clink with Pidge. 

“Godspeed, we believe in you! Make us proud, we pray that your aim is true and that you..”

“Shut the fuck up Pidge or I’ll drag you with me and give you a swirly.” Lance spat over his shoulder but couldn’t help the idiot smile that plastered over his face, especially catching the sloppy double middle fingers Pidge returned.

He made his way, somehow with less stumbling and more normal human walking effort than anticipated considering just how good he was feeling. Lance clutched his phone to his chest, the other occupied with his drink which he decided without consideration would be coming along for the ride. Pidge was right; the door to the bathroom looked suspiciously like every other door in the hallway and this part of the house didn’t really lead anywhere or have any sort of decoration. There was no line and no one around to force Lance into any small talk so he crept up and twisted the doorknob, finding it unlocked before he fumbled against the wall to flick on the lights.

He lied of course. He wasn’t anywhere near the piss-immediately-now quota and being well acquainted with the ‘breaking the dam’ rules- it was just too early in the night for that. He locked the door behind him and messed with the light switch panel until he figured out how to turn off the incredibly bright overheads and leave only a few above the sink on.

_*i got distractedbabe sorry hld on*_

Cup balanced carefully not too close to the edge but just close enough to reach, Lance leaned against the counter and flipped his camera to mirror himself, raising it up in a well-known angle and giving the lewdest and obvious grin he could muster, his other hand framing the small dip at the front of his costume, fingers trailing naturally against where skin met pleather.

Damn, this shit was always easier with a few drinks; it’s like he didn’t have to try.

He took a few for good measure but honestly they all looked pretty fucking hot so, there was no standard wait time of ‘take sixty pictures and delete all of them but three’. Lance blasted them off to Keith, grabbing his drink and waiting for the inevitable.

It was more fun this way; Lance hadn’t even hinted to what he’d be wearing tonight. He knew Keith and Shiro would be home, watching some cheesy horror movie and probably falling asleep before midnight; no one trick-or-treated that far out of town anyways. Considering this was possibly the last college Halloween party he’d attend, Lance had regretfully informed both of his boyfriend’s that they might be spending the night apart, which was met with only minimal pouting.

He wondered how boring the movie was if Keith was texting him in the middle, or maybe it was one of those traditional ones they’d watch every Halloween so it didn’t super matter if anyone was paying attention. Lance’s eyes caught the screen, the tell-tale dots appearing as Keith started to reply.

_*r u serious right now, where th fuck did you get that? Shit, wish I was there instead ,where r u?*_

Lance grinned to himself and took another swig of spooky juice, one of those brilliant drunken ideas sparking. There wasn’t any point of waiting so...Lance pushed the facetime button, steadying himself against the counter and making sure he looked presentable in the off chance that Keith would actually answer this...if he knew how to facetime in the first place.

He did though, the call answered and Lance was met with the ‘I’m hiding that I’m surprised’ face of Keith, his footsteps echoing against Lance’s favorite wood planks and the sound of cheesy movie screaming fading in the background.

“Hey. Thought maybe you’d appreciate something other than pics- was I right?” Lance played coy, examining himself in the shot, thumbing across his lips as if he missed a drop of his drink, hiding the fact that he was eyeing Keith’s reaction.

“Shit. You’re really wearing that? In public? Did you ride with Hunk and Pidge? It’s fucking freezing tonight I made Shiro bump the heat up…” Lance caught a hint of light, Keith settling and stopping somewhere to sit, the previous sounds muffled through a cracked door but he couldn’t tell make out just where he was in the house in his drunken state.

“Not uh. Walked here, heels sucked tho, took ‘em off. It’s not really cold when you pre-game….well, I mean, I made it here so, whatever. Butttttttt, you didn’t tell me - do you like it? It was last minute, but...free so, you know. Thought I could pull it off.” Lance fucking knew he could pull this shit off but he still wanted to hear it, wanted the words from Keith’s mouth and that sweet, sweet validation to swirl just right with whatever the shit spooky juice contained.

Keith couldn’t hide behind a wall of text here. No, Lance got every delicious fidget, every just-too-long stare as his boyfriend took him all in. The hesitation was cute, Keith’s lips parting like he was about to admit something and then nothing, just more staring.

“You don’t like it? Is it too much, even for you?” Lance brought his phone up, angling so the camera could take in his long, stockinged legs and the tilt of his hips as he displayed himself in the most single, accurate way someone of his status could; meaning he could probably put selfies and attractive angle shots as a bullet point on his resume.

“Shit. Don’t say it like that sweetheart, you know exactly what I like.” Keith’s voice was low, as if he was scared Shiro would pop in on his little secret. A hand came up in frame to shove back his bangs, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip absentmindedly. Lance knew, god did he know exactly what all of that meant but he was having too much fun now. 

“Tell me Keith, please? I wanna know. Pidge made fun of me for my ass hanging out, more than once, so now I’m all self-conscious…” A blatant lie of course, and Keith would have to be an idiot to not pick up on the tone of Lance’s voice as he said that. And even if he was an idiot, Lance still turned, tilted as much as he could with his phone in hand to show Keith just how high that pleather cut, just how much of his ass was barely contained by opaque black stockings and of course, that white puffy tail glued right where it should be.

All he got at first was a noticeable cut of air, seconds passing with no reply and a mischievous grin spreading across Lance’s face. It was so much easier this way, bypassing the embarrassment, getting right to pushing all of Keith’s buttons.

“Fuck Lance, I can’t. This isn’t fair, I wanna touch you, you look so good. I don’t want _anyone_ else to touch you, where are you? How far is it from your place - you walked right? I can be there in like twenty minutes. Baby, let me come get you, please? Lance?” Bingo. The desperation in Keith’s voice was music to Lance’s ears but he hadn’t been expecting a full plea to change plans tonight.

Maybe he should wear pleather bunny-suits more often.

“Really? Right now? But you and Shiro have the night in, for movies. Also, it’s fine for _me_ to be smashed but I’m not letting you drive anywhere if you’ve..”

“I’m not, promise, I had like, half a beer an hour ago and forgot about the rest, Shiro fell asleep on the couch.”

The shuffling and lowered voice made more sense now although Lance wasn’t too far gone to appreciate the image of Shiro drooling on his sleeve, lulled to sleep by the sounds of desperate screaming and chainsaws or whatever they were ‘watching’.

“I could just go home with Hunk and Pidge though, _peel_ this thing off and crash on his couch in one of his t-shirts and this thong…” Lance reached for his cup again, hiding the smirk as he took another big gulp and watched with pleasure the multitude of emotions that crossed Keith’s face until he landed somewhere between angry and horny. Classic Keith.

“Or,” Keith’s voice dipped lower, the background blurring and the sound of socks sliding against wood once more filling the emptiness. “You can text me the address so I don’t waste another twenty minutes circling the mile radius of neighborhood around your apartment because I’m coming to get you one way or another, _sweetheart_.”

Lance didn’t miss that last bit, the warning and arousal that underlined his pet name, almost sarcastic sounding if one didn’t know how to read into it. Keith was properly riled up and Lance was feeling it, delighted in how quick it was and feeling rather smug at how he could so easily play his boyfriend; it was doing wonders to his self-esteem.

“I could arrange that, as long as you promise one thing.” Lance waited for Keith’s form to stop blurring in the shot, able to make out that he was at the front door and trying to one-handedly wrangle his shoes on.

“Try me.” Keith paused, fixing his gaze back to his phone, the slightest hint of a dangerous smirk threatening at the corners of his mouth. Lance pulled his phone back closer, licking the rim of his red solo cup to collect the few drops that lingered there. 

“If you pick me up, you gotta for real pick me up; my feet hurt from the heels and its even colder now.” Lance put on his best pout, knowing it was probably overkill but he couldn’t be bothered to care because Keith raised an eyebrow and a soft chuckle broke out as he shook his head.

“Whatever you want baby, the second I see you, you won’t be walking for the rest of the night.”

Keith didn’t give him an opportunity for a comeback or any reaction at all; he ended the call abruptly, leaving Lance staring the blank screen for a few moments until he could sort out his thoughts. The innuendo of that last decoration was obvious but Lance still slid his body down the front of the sink counter, tipping the cup back once more until it was empty and letting the plastic roll a few inches away against the tiled floor.

He’d never FaceTime-ed with Keith before, possibly never went from 0 to 100 that quick either but it had worked and in Lance’s drunken state he felt only success, and maybe a little horny. Ok, maybe a lot horny now that the thought had flickered and his hand had trailed down to his crotch at some point and. Alright, maybe _now_ and _here_ weren’t the best ideas but Lance kept replaying Keith’s voice and imagined him swooping in and hefting Lance over his shoulder like he weighted the same amount as Shiro’s container of protein powder. He went to shift his palm against the now sweaty pleather, giving no thought as to how awful trapped jizz between skin and thong and tights would be but before he could even begin his phone buzzed in his other hand.

_*address bunnyboy, i aint got all night*_

Motherfucker. Lance sighed to himself dramatically and gave up his hopes of jerking it real quick at someone's Halloween party in their bathroom in favor of actually getting Keith to the right location because if that happened, the chances of his dick getting far better action were way higher. He fumbled through sending Keith his pinpoint location and then struggled back up, making sure he was at least sort of presentable in the overhead cabinet mirror and then trying to remember where exactly the hallway connected with the kitchen and how far the dining room was.

Somehow he’d lost track of his shoes, wait no, Allura’s shoes but that was an issue for Later-Lance.

“Dude, did you fall in? You’ve been gone forever! Did you even find the bathroom or have you been stumbling around barefoot the whole time?” Hunk appeared, somehow from out of nowhere and rested a big, warm hand against Lance’s shoulder to steady him. What an angel. An angel dressed as Guy Fieri.

“He was probably shitting, or couldn’t get out of that skin-tight abomination, or maybe both.” And Pidge, on Lance’s other side, sliding in also from nowhere, greedy fingers wrapped around a fresh drink and the hood of her costume pulled down to display a messier than normal mop of hair.

“I see you showered recently Gizmo, I can tell roughly how long it’s been since the grease usually weighs your hair down. If I had to guess, you bathed yesterday or even today.”

“Shut the fuck up Lance before I stomp on your gross bare feet and suffocate you in my onesie.”

“I love you too, Pidge.” Lance grinned and swiped Hunk’s drink from his free hand before he could do anything about it, knowing that Pidge would act on that promise if Lance even looked the wrong way at her own drink.

He plopped the cup back in Hunk’s hand like nothing had happened and yawned against Mr. Fieri’s shoulder, stretching and padding the few feet until he could collapse his long self against the cushioned window seat of the dining room.

“Oh yeah, Keith’s coming to pick me up, soon probably, tell me when my phone does something.” Lance, without looking, underhand-chucked his phone in their direction, laughing when he heard the combined sounds of Pidge swearing and Hunk’s confused grunt.

“What the fuck does that mean? He’s coming here? Lance. Lance!”

\-------

“Where are you going? Gunna miss the movie…” Shiro rumbled against the pillow sandwiched between his head and the couch arm, blinking against the low light of the TV and fireplace.

“Yeah? Maybe you can tell me what happened the past half an hour?” Keith teased, shrugging on his jacket and digging through the basket near the front door until he fished out the truck’s keys. He caught the pinpoint notification light up his screen before he pocketed his phone and wandered back over to where Shiro had made no effort to get up.

Keith was met with a sleepy smile and a curl of a finger, calling his husband closer, Shiro sliding his palm against the other’s cheek. “Sorry, something about chainsaws just puts me right to sleep I guess” Shiro grinned when Keith smiled at that, tugging him in close for a quick kiss.

“I’m gonna go pick up a surprise for you, won’t be long, we’ll be back within an hour.” Shiro perked up at that, sliding his frame up more in a sitting position with his legs still sprawled out across the couch.

“Yeah? Should I, put on some coffee? It’s..” Shiro glanced at his phone in his lap, frowning at just how early it still was in the night, embarrassed that he’d passed out so quickly.

“Mm, I dunno old man, do you want to fall asleep and miss this? I don’t mind having that all to myself.” Keith had snuck his phone back out and quickly flipped to one of Lance’s photos from earlier. He was gifted with the sound of a deep, short intake of air and Shiro’s fingers grabbing at the phone to bring it closer.

“Is that...this is from tonight? Recent? You’re going to go…” Keith grabbed his phone back and smirked, pulling up from Shiro’s warm cocoon.

“Sure the fuck am, I suggest you forgo the nap and get on that coffee, someone’s very needy tonight and decided to tease me, so if you want to help…” Shiro flung the blanket off his legs and was up faster than Keith expected, remote in hand as he paused the movie and strutted back to Keith at the front door, wrapping him up tight between his arms and nosing down against the soft, warm skin of his neck.

“Bring him home Keith, I’ll take care of the rest.” Shiro’s hands drifted from the tight hug, trailing across Keith’s shoulders and then resting at the back of his neck, fingers curling just enough at the hair there to get Keith to look up. He held that gaze as long as he could until it was too much, Shiro’s intent clear without either of them needing to ask.

“Yes Sir.”

\-----

_*get ur hot ass out here, im double parked and the truck takes up the whole damn street*_

Lance’s phone buzzed and Pidge was still coherent enough to realize what it was illuminating the inside pocket of her costume. “Lance, get up. The pizza guys here, you said you’d pay for it.”

“I did not, the party already has pizza why would they order more? Fuck, what if it’s Dominos that shit’s gross Pidge!”

The hard part wasn’t getting Lance to cooperate. Actually, for a sleepy drunk boy dressed as a slutty rabbit, he was pretty helpful; they even found Allura’s heels, wrapped up tightly in Lance’s jacket at the front closet. The difficult part was keeping him standing in said heels and getting the door open wide enough to fit him and Hunk, Pidge trailing after, Lance’s phone still clutched in her hands.

They all somehow met halfway down the cement walk that connected the front door and driveway, Keith stopping short to watch them both corral Lance like a newborn giraffe with a smirk plastered on his face.

“Hey. You guys need help with that?” Before either of them could even offer a proper hello, nice to meet you finally, wow you’re shorter than I thought etc, Lance’s head shot up and he grinned like an idiot, breaking free from Pidge and Hunk’s grasp to stumble un-sexily forward, slamming right into Keith and his knees nearly buckling from the heels as he wrapped his arms around the other man and didn’t let go.

“Keith. You came all the way to get me? Please tell me it's not the bike- I’ll fall off, I can barely…” Keith’s arms wrapped tighter around Lance’s middle, his gaze over the other’s shoulder landing on Hunk and Pidge as they watched their best friend practically melt against someone they’d only heard about.

“Of course not baby, I got Shiro’s truck, it's too cold for the bike.” Keith pressed him closer, feeling the shiver that ran through Lance’s long frame at the night’s chill and tipped his head towards the house in a belated hello.

“What's the damage?” He asked when they came closer, Pidge holding out Lance’s phone for Keith to pocket.

“Eh, I’ve seen him a lot worse, he had a little nap waiting for you - just get some water in him, maybe like, some chips? Trust me, I know what ‘I’m too drunk for my own good’ Lance looks like and he’s not anywhere close.” Hunk shrugged and offered a smile, Pidge leaning in and elbowing him lightly.

“Remember that one time at your apartment? You know, when he took off his pants and demanded we all start that thousand piece puzzle together while we watched Shrek 2?”

Hunk chuckled and Lance whined, pushing his cold nose against Keith’s neck and pouting. “Take me home before they tell any more awful stories pleaseeeee.” The lighthearted exchange had even Keith cracking a smile. He reached up under Lance’s jacket and hefted him up, arms strong and secure as Lance automatically wrapped his legs tight from behind, heels clacking together. Keith would follow through on his promise.

“Thanks for taking care of him, Pidge, Hunk.”

“No problem man, Happy Halloween, have a good night.” Hunk patted against Lance’s back and Pidge ruffled his hair between the rabbit ear headband before they headed back in, snickering at his lazy protests and petulant behavior as he tried to hide against Keith.

“Come on sweetheart, let's get you home to Shiro- I promised I’d share.” Lance only nodded sleepily, still wrapped up against Keith’s body heat even as his boyfriend popped open the passenger side door. The whined protest was short as Keith extracted Lance from him, tugging off his own jacket to drape across Lance’s nearly bare legs and pulling both their phone’s free in the process. He hopped back in on his side, starting the old truck back up with a loud rumble and pointing all the vents towards Lance so he wouldn’t freeze; Keith had no idea how the fuck he’d walked to the party in only that. He allowed himself only a small peek, content that Lance was here with him now instead, and by the sound of his soft breathing, he was already asleep again. Slowly he pulled the truck forward, catching the movement of hands at the houses front window and waved back to Pidge and Hunk as he left, hoping the short drive would give Lance enough rest for whatever Shiro was planning when they got home.  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS here's 10k words of PORN.
> 
> I meant for this to be out MUCH SOONER but....life. Things? Some of this has been written for a long while and I Just needed some good chunks of time to settle down and SLAM THIS OUT. Thanks xmas vaca.  
> Please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes - I steam rolled most of this so it is far from perfect.  
> <3

“Come on baby, wake up, you can’t sleep in the truck all night.” Lance had slept the whole way there, somehow looking peaceful and serene clad in cheap pleather and lopsided fuzzy ears. Shiro had flicked the outside lights on and a steady puff of smoke almost invisible if you didn’t know how to spot it floated up from the top of the chimney as Keith’s boots crunched across gravel.

An unintelligible mumble was all he’d gotten before scooping up Lance bridal style, slamming the heavy rusted door shut with his elbow. Keith made it to the weathered planks of the porch and almost to the front door before Shiro opened it, a steady blast of warm seeping out as he looked at the pair, a soft smile spreading before he stepped aside to let them come home.

“He’s still asleep?” Shiro slid the door closed behind them, careful not to make too much sound, the hint of worry creeping into the edge of his words only someone like Keith could hear.

“Whole ride back, apparently a little before I got there too. Hunk said he’d be fine though - water? Maybe some toast.” The distant smell of coffee finally hit, stealing Keith’s attention away to land on the half-full cup steadied on the side table near the couch.

“Lay him down, I’ll go take care of that.” Shiro moved to breeze past them back to the kitchen but was stopped abruptly when cold, long fingers wrapped around his beat-up flannel and tugged.

“Shiro? Keith said he’d bring me home…” Lance frowned in his sleep before yawning and tugging again, his other hand gripping the front of Keith as he struggled awake but not ready to fully commit. “I’m a bunny rabbit, did you see?” This time his tug faltered and fell, Lance content to curl back against his boyfriend and test opening his eyes to the onslaught of light.

“I can see a little, will you show me more later?” Lance only nodded, satisfied enough with his semi blurry sight of what he assumed was Shiro based mostly on size alone and the fact Keith was somehow still cradling him in his arms.

“Alright, I know you’re all arms and legs but you aren’t exactly light so, couch time.” Shiro left with an affirming squeeze to Keith’s shoulder before the pair settled onto the couch, cheesy horror movie still frozen in time above the fireplace.

“You saying my ass is big? Think you still weigh more, M’not _that_ heavy...should practice carrying me over thresholds probably, get that stamina up…” Even in his less than ideal state, Lance still grinned at Keith with a lopsided smile, his head resting against Shiro’s favorite couch-naptime pillow and his legs splayed however they had landed. Keith only lifted an eyebrow before tugging and pulling Lance out of his jacket and replacing the warmth with the blanket that always lay spread across the back of the couch. 

“Nah, your ass is actually sort of tiny and flat, it’s just the rest of you...stuffs too long and hard to manage, gets in the way. Maybe you should go to the doctor about that, see if there’s an easy fix for…” Keith gestured to everything that was occupying the couch as he sat on the edge near Lance’s feet, “ _all of this_.”

“Shut up, you like all of this, including my tiny flat ass. You wouldn’t keep trying to shove your dick in it if you didn’t like it.” Lance’s eyes were closed now, words trying to slur across his dried lips before he licked at them and slid his fingers across the top of the blanket, that dumb, goofy smile never leaving.

Keith didn’t say anything- what could he offer in response? Lance was right; he loved every stupid long inch of the boy in front of him, more than he wanted to admit, more than he _had_ admitted to either of them. Instead, he just stared, trapped in a weird moment of realization of how specific everything felt right now. How fast he’d jumped in Shiro’s truck at the request, no second thought in his mind it was just….Lance. Shiro didn’t question it either, just told him to bring him home. And here he was now, comfortable covered by things that meant home to them, all of the hesitations and uncertainties gone. It was a weird thing to think about on Halloween night.

Shiro came back, his steps slow and his face apologetic; in his hands were a measly plate of off-brand tortilla chips and a coffee mug of water.

‘Out of bread and that was the last clean cup?” Keith shook his head, his thoughts from a moment ago dispersing as Shiro came closer and gave him a look that confirmed such.

“Is he…” Shiro placed the plate on the table, leaning over Lance’s resting form on the couch, mug still in hand.

“Enough to defend his small, flat ass to me. He’s fine, stop worrying old man.”

Lance yawned and made a production of stretching his arms and legs, opening his eyes once more and meeting Shiro’s concerned gaze. “Are you here to _serve_ me? Can you hold the cup for me and feed each individual chip into my mouth until I request another? What about fluffing my pillow?” 

“Yeah, he’s fine.” Shiro deposited the cup of water in Lance’s unprepared hands before plopping the plate of chips on his stomach. “Drink all of that, eat all of these. No complaining, starting November with a hangover isn’t ideal, will ruin the fresh start.”

Lance rolled his eyes and fumbled around for a chip, smushing it against his cheek the first time as he missed and then finally aiming correctly for his mouth. “Yes _daddy_ .” He mumbled between chewing, eyebrows wiggling as Shiro’s cheeks heated and Keith looked between them like there was some sort of unspoken _something_ there and well, he wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t test me tonight boy, there’s enough of that going on right now with what you’re wearing.” The words came much softer than Shiro intended as he stood up, looming over both of them but all the bite of his normal base level intimidation just not there. Embarrassment was funny like that.

Lance sipped at his coffee mug of water, popping another chip in his mouth and looking over at Keith, who was still staring between them trying to piece together the _daddy_ puzzle.

“Not testing you, more like tempting. Can I show off my costume after the chips? I promise I’ll be fine tomorrow, really. M’more like, fuzzy, and less like, can’t stand up, you know? I’ve been way more hammered before, trust me. College.” Lance tried to prove himself by shoveling an actual pile of chips in his mouth, a few missing their target and falling to the blanket. 

Keith picked up the slack, not a second thought as he scooped up what had fallen and crunched down on the half broken chips. “Yeah _daddy_ , can Lance show you his costume after?”

He had no idea what sort of fire he was playing with. It was the kind that made Lance stop mid-chew, his gaze drifting from Keith to Shiro slowly, wondering how this disaster might pan out. It could go two different ways, both equally terrifying and exciting in Lance’s opinion. The issue here was that neither of them had really included or explained to Keith that most of their solo play had drifted in this direction. The other problem- it wasn’t really for everyone, so much so that it was difficult to bring up and Lance, for the life of him, could not see Keith being into it and participating but fuck, even him saying the word in a condescending way was making his stomach flip and no, it was not because the booze and chips were meeting each other.

Shiro, poor Shiro, stood between them, somewhere most likely between horny and mortified as both his husband and boyfriend shared a plate of definitely stale chips and taunted him with the single word that could flip all of his shit off the table. At least the night was still young.

“You really want to go there Keith, tonight? We can if you want, if Lance wants to share. Honestly, all I have on my do-to list currently is that costume and well, these.” Shiro leaned over to the left, pulling open the drawer of one couch side table, fishing through its long overdue for a cleaning contents until he found the prize he knew was there. A pair of five dollar party store black cat ears were wrapped in his grip, the dawning realization across Keith’s face once he saw them well worth the snippy sass Shiro had gotten from the both of them.

“Thought you threw those away.” A cover, one carefully placed and toned just right as Keith leaned over and grabbed another chip, choosing to ignore the bubbling and ecstatic look on Lance’s face. He already knew what would come out of that mouth if he dared to breathe in the other boy’s direction too loudly.

“How could I? They were a great investment, certainly worth the five fifty they cost considering all the use we got out of them two Halloween’s ago.” Shiro twirled the offending thing in hand, waiting for one of them to break the weirdly mismatched layers of tension.

“Can I?” Lance was the one of course, but his question wasn’t what either of them was expecting. The ‘Wait, what happened that year?’ or ‘Wow Keith you really are a furry’ were absent, in their place just Lance sitting more upright and shifting the empty plate and finished mug to the side table. He held one hand out, his smile doing a shit job at covering the mischief that lingered just underneath. Shiro stopped his twirling, not fully understanding what the request meant but his interest was piqued.

“I don’t know, can you?” Shiro drawled, “Maybe if you asked correctly.”

Lance rolled his eyes, fingers sliding together and reaching back out as he sat up properly, his head dipped lower than needed while his headband tilted forward too much, making the whole scene exaggerated and foolish.

“Please, may I, _Sir_.” He held still even through Shiro’s sigh and Keith’s mumbled ‘brat’, knowing that his dumb, extravagant movements were more for humor than actual submission but fuck it, it was still Halloween and Lance was still feeling that spooky juice a little.

The headband plopped down into his hands without any further exchange, Lance grinning to himself as he turned to Keith as if he held a magic chalice of power handed down from Shiro.

“Come’re Kitty.” That. _That_ finally cracked him, Keith staring back silent as if him not moving would somehow ward off the blush that was currently engulfing his very existence.

“Fuck off Lance.” All bark and no bite, Lance was too familiar with Keith’s voice and when he really truly meant for anyone to fuck off and thus wasted no more time. He closed the small gap of space between them faster than Keith considered a drunk college kid should be moving after a nap and snacks.

Shiro simply kept to himself and watched; really, there wasn’t much he could do to make the situation better and frankly, it was going just fine without him. The blanket was gone, tossed to the floor across Shiro’s house slippers and Lance was trying to force his way over Keith, or...under him? He was desperately pushing himself into Keith’s space and the other was fighting it, but not the way Shiro really knew Keith could fight.

He was soft, especially with Lance. Maybe his words were harsh but he was always the first to pull Lance close, to lend a hoodie when Lance forgot his, and to wordlessly cut a peanut butter and jelly diagonally, not across. Keith would never be one to admit it outright, but Shiro could read all the signs, just as he read them now with Lance pressed fully to Keith’s chest at the end of the couch, pouting and pleading while his husband slowly broke down.

“Pleaseee Keith, we can match. I just wanna see, come _on_ , you wore them for Shiro why can’t you show me? I’ll make it worth your time, I promise. I wanna seee.” Lance pleaded, his voice tilting dangerously close to annoying but falling thankfully short.

“Fucking, god, _fine_ , if you’ll shut up just…” And that was that. Keith’s hands fell from trying to fend off his advances and Lance, _Lance_ wiggled against him, long stocking-clad legs on full display, one heel still perfectly on while the other dangled dangerously from his toes but no one was really paying attention to that part. No, the good parts, in Shiro’s opinion, were further up. Up past those legs that he would absolutely be spreading open later, even further past the enticing fluffy tail and expanse of sleek black, past naked shoulders and collarbones and lopsided ears and that devious little smile.

Lance bit his lip in concentration as an absolutely stock-still Keith watched, boiling rage or maybe lust (hard to tell with him) just under the brink of spilling over while long fingers gently placed the offending headband atop his head as if it were a jeweled crown. The silence that followed the exchange seemed out of place for both of them; just looking, as if they were taking bets on who would speak first.

“Ok well, that’s a lot hotter than I thought it would be so uh…” Lance reluctantly shared, eyes following the curve of each cat ear.

Shiro would pay real goddamn money to see that particular brand of cocky smirk Keith threw back, all of his hidden embarrassment and misplaced anger at wearing such a stupid accessory gone the second his boyfriend declared that it was anything other than absurd.

“Yeah? You like that, bunny boy?” Confidence surged into Keith with his reply, hands wrapping around Lance while he laid across his lap, settling first at the edge of pleather until dipping down and down, sliding across the sleek fabric and resting right against the puffy white tail. “Feels like you like it.”

“Does it? Hard to hide anything in this.” Lance brought himself closer, just enough space between them to have Shiro’s fingers twitching in anticipation.

“That’s ok baby,” Keith teased, his hand sliding until his palm was cupping a single ass cheek, the skin under stalkings warm. “You don’t have anything to hide from us.”

A threat? A promise? Shiro couldn’t tell and the way Keith was looking at him now, eyebrow cocked just enough in a challenge before he broke the gaze and focused back on Lance. He said nothing before dipping his head down, one hand squeezing against where he’d planted it, the other tugging at the back of his boyfriend’s hair to shove him forward into a sloppy kiss.

Shiro would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying this moment in time. He was close enough to see the way Keith licked into Lance’s mouth, purposely messy as he trailed along needy lips and bucked his hips up against the boy in his lap. Shiro also knew he was playing with him, dangling Lance to try to get a rise out of his husband, the other hand reaching to meet and frame each perky cheek, squeezing and pushing him down now that there was no threat of Lance pulling away.

Said boy in lap was chipping away at Shiro’s self-control, whatever barely there inhibitor he had sober completely out of commission with Keith grinding against him like he was now, earning soft little gasps and moans as Lance tried to mirror the fervor with which Keith was kissing him. His hands had crawled up Keith’s shoulders and that dangling high heel had finally slipped to the floor. Lance tried his best to get somehow further in his boyfriend’s lap, each needy stretch only putting his legs more on display and making Keith grip him tighter to keep him in place.

“Alright, that's enough from you two.” Shiro stood his ground, arms crossing in front of his chest and waiting for his false bunny and cat to stop dry humping each other.

Keith pulled away first but only to drag his fingers to Lance’s neck, tilting it away from Shiro so he could watch as his husband planted soft, wet kisses before nipping at the skin there, earning a jolt and moan from the other.

“What’s wrong _Sir_ , don’t like our little show?” Keith punctuated this with a much softer kiss, right below Lance’s earlobe making him shiver and grip tighter to Keith’s shoulder, exactly how he planned.

Lance couldn’t see it with how he was turned now but Keith could, Shiro watching them like a hawk and silently calculating something. See, there wasn’t any game plan here. Lance was still too tipsy to really understand what any of this was about but he was having a blast on Keith’s lap. Keith, well- he just wanted to see how far he could push, how much more of it he could take while Keith disregarded his position and went about his business with Lance like he wanted. He _was_ the one to go pick up the poor sap; he should be allowed a little fun.

The answer came much quicker than he anticipated though because Shiro was apparently not having any of this, not keen on letting what was his have at it without him, especially not given the state of dress. With a quick few strides, he closed the distance between them, hand reaching to the back of Keith’s neck as he crouched down in front, catching and tugging the hair at the hair there to snap his attention away from Lance and land where it should be: him.

“Oh no, I love your little show, but it’s over now. I’ll give you a few more seconds than normal since our little bunny might need some help getting down, but if I don’t see you both on your knees facing the couch in thirty seconds we can find some other way to fix that mouth of yours.” 

Shiro turned and let go before he could fully appreciate the quick dip of fear that made itself known across Keith’s face, aligning himself close enough to watch as the order sank in.

Lance didn’t need to be told twice even though the threat was aimed at Keith. Even through his feelin-fine-but-still-a-little-drunk he could tell Shiro meant business and that strict, clipped voice was enough to sober up anyone if they ever had the chance to hear it in this context.

He fumbled, sort of like a baby deer that got caught in some weeds, the thirty-second time limit seeming near impossible as his hands slipped from Keith’s shoulders and one knee landed on the ground while his remaining high heel fell and clamored against the hardwoods.

“Keithhhh, help me! Shiro’s gunna…m’not gonna make it.” Lance whined, grabbing at whatever he could catch of his boyfriend's clothes, Shiro trying very hard to hold his stern expression and not break with a snicker.

“Stop flailing I’ll help you, just, why are you _all_ limbs calm down he’s not gonna be mad.” Keith somehow grabbed both of Lance’s arms and snuck out from underneath his boyfriend, kneeling sloppily on the floor in front of the couch while he tugged Lance the rest of the way down as carefully as he could.

Shiro watched them, only vaguely counting out the time, more interested in the way Keith rushed to help Lance in position, his touches soft even still, tilting the bunny ears back in place and scooting the fallen heels to the side before settling himself. It was an interesting shift in character; watching him care for someone else instead of holding onto the petulant defiance he had moments ago. Making sure they were presentable was more important, almost as if Keith were trying to assure that Lance wouldn’t get in trouble.

Said bunny was still, his kneeling pose still perfect even though Shiro could see the relax that stayed in his shoulders instead of his rigid alertness that came with the first five minutes of play. The cat however; still shifting, his ears slightly crooked and his fingers nervously picking at his jeans instead of arms behind as Lance held. Shiro wondered if Keith’s flight or fight would kick in as he rounded the couch and settled down right between them, or if maybe the third rarer reaction would show itself.

Time to find out.

“Well now, let’s just assume you made it in time- the effort was there.” Shiro smiled, watching the tiny grin that ghosted over Lance’s lips and the unreadable gaze up from Keith. So that’s how it was going to be.

It was strange to think but they’d never quiet arranged like this. Sure, plenty of times previous Shiro had demanded Keith’s obedience and the boy would give it. Plenty of times they’d laid Lance out before them and come to a natural pecking order, Keith following command when it was offered and more often than not throwing his own orders down to Lance. Lance was a natural, eager to please them both, uncaring about what level or dynamic fit best for the night. But to have them both kneeling like this, as equals, ready for Shiro’s word- this was new. This was something he’d worried would never work out the way intended, if Keith would be willing to show this deeper side of himself in front of Lance. Keith knew what the stupid headband meant; it wasn’t just for the novelty of the night.

“Keith, you’re wearing a bit much. You can keep your pants but that’s it.” Shiro offered casually, waiting for the sound of fabric that would mean his cat complied.

Nothing came and he flicked his gaze over, Keith’s jaw set and his fists along his thighs tightening, teeth biting at the corner of his lip. He knew better than to do anything without voicing confirmation.

“That was an order _kitten_ , and a pretty easy one at that. You know the drill- you know what I want.” Shiro offered again, his voice a little more stern, watching the near slip up of Keith raising his gaze to stare after that absurd pet name was given but he stopped himself right at Shiro’s chin.

“Sir…” Lance’s soft request cut through the awkward tension, the frown across his pretty lips making Shiro’s heart do some things he wasn’t quite ready to think about. Lance didn’t look up, could tell from the few beats of silence that Shiro was probably regarding him now. “May I please help Keith?”

Unexpected, but not entirely out of question. It wasn’t Shiro’s goal to make things difficult tonight; he considered his needs closer to simple on the spectrum of submission and he’s seen Keith execute things like this without question, meaning he was only struggling with something more internal. Cold feet, embarrassment, or maybe just some good old fashioned defiance; Keith had displayed them all at least once in private. However, Shiro suspected something deeper- the thought of him struggling against the idea that Lance, of all people, would no longer take him seriously when he dommed because he was on his knees now; silly, but entirely possible for someone with Keith’s track record of silent worries.

Maybe this would unwind him enough; maybe Keith needed more time to ease into himself.

“You may. Back into position when you finish.” Shiro’s voice was softer, the command still there but he wanted to match Lance’s approach, see if Keith was more receptive to this. 

Lance, in all his scantily-clad, sort of drunk glory, slid himself the few feet that kept them apart on the floor and positioned still kneeling to Keith’s side. Keith remained silent but even Shiro could see the tension drop from his shoulders the second his boyfriend’s fingers were on him, unbuttoning his red flannel with the same level of attentive care he always gave Shiro. Those sure hands slid over fabric, pulling the outer layer down his shoulders, tugging gently when it couldn’t go any further with Keith’s posture and offering a small, questioning bump of his nose against his boyfriend's ear, silently asking for help.

Shiro wished he remembered his phone, glaring the stupid thing behind them on the coffee table because the exasperated sigh and tiny crack of a smile from Keith was priceless, his movements quick and sure as he wrangled the rest of his shirt off, dropping it in Lance’s lap and reaching out to pull him closer before halting, realizing there was no permission for that, Lance was only granted to help with his clothes.

This time Shiro did chuckle, smug in the fact that the exchange had a blush creeping across his cheeks as Lance slid his hands behind Keith and started tugging up his black undershirt. Keith’s arms went up without question, Lance catching and straightening the ears before they fell out of his hair. He made short work of his boyfriends socks and quickly folded the contents in his lap and set them on the table behind them.

Lance snuck one tiny kiss in, just a quick nothing to the corner of Keith’s mouth, blurting out a “Sorry Sir” before Shiro could even protest and scooted back to his spot, a devious little smile lingering while Keith fought his own losing battle with the same.

Shiro didn’t have it in him to punish, it was much more important to do this- finding the correct comfort and flow, making sure it felt right. It _looked_ damn amazing, if anyone were to ask him. He had his soft spots for Lance, always so eager and willing and wanting nothing more to help and please. But he also had a different sort of spot for Keith, admiring his strength and yes, even stubbornness. Both were wonderful in their different ways and having them submit themselves together, well, Shiro was a lucky man.

“Better, Keith?” Shiro nudged the other with his big toe, pleased to see the grin still there across his lips.

“Yes Sir.” And that was it, _that_ , is what Shiro needed to wait for. With Keith’s reply came his movements, sure and deliberate as he crossed his bare arms behind his back and sat up straighter. 

“Good. I think a little fun for me is in order now, and I doubt you’ll protest.” Shiro made sure both gazes flickered, one hand coming to rest at the band of his sweatpants, Keith fully aware there were no boxers waiting underneath and Lance having no clue.

“Lance, keep your pose but face Keith, that’s it, good boy, just like that.” Shiro turned his attention to his husband, watching for that glimpse of uncertainty that he wasn’t intending to push just yet. “Keith, you’re free to do as you please with him but keep his costume on, until I say stop.”

Shiro was hoping the granted independence and open-ended suggestion would push away whatever was left in Keith still causing his inner turmoil. With how fast Keith pounced on Lance three seconds after he stopped talking, Shiro was willing to bet he’d been correct.

“Can I speak Sir, to him?” Keith was pressed tight, tighter than Lance had managed on the couch, his thighs splayed over Lance’s tucked ones, crotch right against the other’s front with his arms draped over Lance’s bare shoulders. He looked very much in control but he still waited for Shiro’s word, grinned down at his boyfriend like he had some evil secret.

“I’m not sure if cats and rabbits can actually communicate but we’ll let it slide for tonight. You can, I’m sure Lance would love to hear what you’ll say.” Shiro dipped his hand under the waistband of his sweats, waiting for the right moment he knew would be arriving soon.

From Lance’s perspective, everything was going much better tonight than he could ever have planned. The party was nice, the free booze was cool, his costume made him feel much more attractive than a normal day of unwashed jeans and hoodie, but this… _this_ was something else. Sure, he’d seen Shiro boss Keith around a bit, more often than not it just sort of seemed normal for someone to take charge and then someone to be second in command but Keith had never, ever knelt with Lance on the floor and boy, was it doing all sorts of things to him now. 

Right... Now. _Now_ was important. Now was Keith tilting Lance’s face up by the bottom of his chin and giving him a look that Lance could only describe as ‘I’m about to eat you and you can’t do anything about it.’ 

He wasn’t far off.

“You seem to be having a good time, bunny boy. Will you help me?” Keith dipped closer, his lips brushing against Lance’s ear on the furthest side so Shiro could see the boy beneath him fall apart. “Sir gave me a present, and it’s you. Maybe you should show him your thanks.”

Keith was playing dirty but Lance couldn’t seem to give a single fuck because he lived for this, the pushing and pulling and giving; he’d give forever for these two. How could he deny himself when it felt so good? 

And who would chastise him for the little jolt of his hips beneath Keith, his gaze dipping down to those devious lips, the nervous swallow and the way his fingers fidgeted behind his back? He knew what kneeling meant, he knew Shiro meant for him and Keith to be equal but it was so easy to crumble below his boyfriend like this. Keith was just too good; Keith made him want to submit.

The soft “Yes” that came from his mouth- Lance was never sure if Keith heard it but it hardly mattered.

He was panting, unsure how much time had passed; it could have been minutes, maybe much longer. Keith was above him, absolutely ravaging his mouth, grinding down on his lap and his hands never seemed to stop for too long. They gripped at the back of his neck, slipped down to the small of his back and pressed Lance to arch, guided his face to tilt towards the couch as Keith pried apart his lips and sank two fingers down without any warning. Keith knew- didn’t even need to warn Lance because he just _knew_ the other would suck down anything in his mouth, Lance finally breaking his composure of silence and let a soft moan slip out.

Keith looked over at the right moment, first to Shiro’s lap, catching the movement under his sweatpants before taking a chance and traveling up, the gaze he was met with sending a shiver down his back. Shiro’s focus was so pinpoint, so severe and overwhelming, staring at the lingering fingers dipped into Lance’s mouth. His eyes flicked to Keith, just a moment, one that could mean nothing or everything.

They kept that eye contact, Keith’s fingers still moving slowly in and out of Lance’s mouth, Shiro’s hand matching the pace before he stopped, dragged his hand up to push his sweatpants out of the way, his thick cock so inviting and so ready that it made Keith pause in his actions. The only thing that managed to break them from each other was Lance, whining and licking at Keith’s fingers only an inch or so past his lips. 

“Seems you’ve left someone a little needy.” Shiro continued with his grip, dragging up and down slowly more to taunt than to give himself pleasure but by the sound of his voice Keith could tell he was struggling to stay put.

“Seems that way Sir.” Keith threw back, still watching Shiro as he dipped his fingers further into Lance, earning an eager moan and a rock up from the hips below him. His legs must ache by now, holding the pose and Keith’s weight but for as much as he complained outside the bedroom, he rarely did inside.

“Poor thing, fingers never seem to satisfy him fully.” Shiro stopped, thumb running over the tip and smearing what was there as he licked at his dry bottom lip. Now seemed like a good time to test. “Why don’t you bring him to me Kitten, I bet I can find something to help.”

A command hidden in an offer seemed to be the trick because Keith dragged his fingers out past Lance’s lips and licked deep into his mouth before his boyfriend could protest, only pulling away to whisper something Shiro was too far away to hear.

Only then did Lance look over, perhaps the first time since they’d properly started, his hazy eyes landing on what he’d declared a ‘gift from the gods’ and nearly lost his composure, his frame struggling against the hold he’d placed himself in.

“It’s ok sweetheart, he wants you to come.” And yes, the wording was on purpose and yes, Lance almost bucked Keith out of his lap because Shiro needed him at his feet, he’d given permission and if he didn’t get over there immediately he might die (ok he wouldn’t but that’s what his mind supplied). All Keith could do was scoot back and laugh, watch Lance land on his hands and knees and without a hint of embarrassment crawl over to the open spot between Shiro’s legs.

Keith supposed it didn’t matter now- Lance hadn’t shown any awkwardness that might have come from him sharing this similar role so he followed the other, hands and knees against the hardwoods until settling himself in the small space Lance had left him at Shiro’s feet.

For a moment Shiro just watched them, his strokes slow and steady, neither of his pets following proper etiquette considering they were both staring at his cock instead of down at the floor in a respectful manner but he couldn’t find himself annoyed by it, the mood tonight settling on something much lighter and playful. He was confident that he’d wrangle them both better, maybe a few more times down before everyone was comfortable to have a serious session. Maybe he could find something cute and matching for Christmas, something that would delight Lance and make Keith scowl. Santa hats? Reindeer headbands? Maybe some matching red leather and jingle bells… more on that later.

“Look at you both, waiting perfect and patient. My good boys.” Shiro let his voice drop lower, his own smile peeking through as he watched Lance grin and look down, watched Keith’s cheeks redden and his gaze slide to the bottom corner of the couch. He always meant what he said; they’d been taking this well and Shiro was an honest man- just having them like this with nothing more to the night delighted him in ways he’d never considered would be possible.

“Good boys get good rewards.” Shiro spread his legs a little wider, tugged his sweats down as far as they’d go with his thighs splayed and tilted his cock towards them, watching both snap to attention as he assumed would happen at the word ‘reward’. “Hands stay behind you, mouth only. Play nice.”

Shiro had thought there might be more of a fight to this but both of them surprised him with immediate coordination and zero bickering. Keith was slightly faster but he left plenty of room, licking a hot stripe up the side of his husband’s dick and shuffling to the side to accommodate Lance as said bunny boy followed the lead, mimicking Keith’s movements on the opposite side. Shiro held himself in place, fingers tight at the base so they could both reach, sucking in a sharp breath of air as Lance lapped so far down that his tongue slid over the rougher skin and fingernail, uncaring as he pressed down to reach every inch of Shiro that was available to fit in his mouth. Keith was working the top instead, his cheeks slightly hollowed as he sucked and licked at the head, thighs straining as he held himself high enough to reach.

At some point in their travels to make sure every inch and then some of Shiro’s cock was serviced they met back in the middle, Lance’s lips pressing wet kisses to the shaft and bumping against the corner of Keith’s mouth. His eyes snapped open (a cute habit he had when hyper fixating on a task) and Keith paused, pulling away just enough to lick at his lips and raise a questioning eyebrow.

Keith, that perfect asshole, leaned forward once more, nuzzled Shiro’s wet cock and flicked his tongue out, pressing tiny little kitten licks and staring Lance down the whole time. Shiro watched from above, his occasional grunts of pleasure drifting off as Keith teased, getting ready to tell him to behave better but he never got that far because Lance, in all his bunny boy glory, surged forward to capture the cat’s lips, his kiss sloppy and messy and absolutely on purpose pressing against Shiro’s cock while he ravaged Keith’s mouth.

It was fun watching the small bouts of confidence that came from him; the slow and steady process of someone finding their place and realizing the moments when they could push forward. Shiro would have reflected on this at a deeper level but he was currently cursing, his other hand gripping the couch cushions as something primal seemed to break for all of them in this moment.

No one granted the boys permission to use their hands but still, Shiro said nothing, his focus only on the pair as Keith grabbed Lance by the nape and shoved him up against the wet heat of his husband's lap. He made a mess of his face, dragging his cheek along until Lance was positioned at the top. Keith pried those lips apart, sank him forcefully down halfway, Lance’s fingers gripping tight on Shiro’s thighs as he took it with a choked gasp. The cat held him there, no easing up allowed as he dipped his own mouth below, licking where Lance’s lips met hot flesh, sucking where he could reach and letting out his own huffed groans.

“Bedroom, now. _Crawl_ .” The snarl that came out of Shiro was severe enough that both of them stopped immediately, Keith letting his hold on Lance go and the other pulling up off of Shiro’s cock with drool trickling down his face and a hint of fear in his eyes. Shiro was slightly out of breath but he still cocked an eyebrow at them, the muscles of his thighs flexing as he threatened to get up and _that_ got them scrambling, all pretense of balance and subtlety gone as his pets struggled over each other to make it to the bedroom first.

\---

Shiro was currently three fingers deep into Keith’s ass and Lance was losing his mind.

Keith had made it to the bedroom first, a mere five seconds before Lance had scrambled in, worried he’d rip his stockings crawling on the floor. He could hear Shiro’s heavy footsteps behind but was far too riled up to look back as he chased the cat in front of him. Keith’s success was short-lived because the second he turned to sneer at Lance a strong hand clapped against the back of his neck and made him fumble. Fingers curled deep into stray dark strands and _tugged_ so hard that he had no other option but to drag himself up the side of the bed, hissing in pain before he was pulled and pressed to the blanket, Shiro smiling above as he shoved Keith’s face down and canted his hips up to smack a heavy-handed slap to his ass.

“Thought you’d get away with your behavior with no payment?” Another smack landed, the sound muffled from Keith’s worn jeans. “That I’d go easy on you like this because Lance is here?” Shiro pressed harder at the back of Keith’s neck and the groan that ripped out of the boy was enough to make Lance blush, his body frozen on the floor and just barely able to see a hint of what was happening on top of the bed. He didn’t dare move an inch, not even to get a better look, in fear that he’d evoke whatever wrath Shiro had unleashed.

For what it was worth, Keith did put up a fight, or at least what looked like one from Lance’s view from the floor. He bucked, tried to kick at Shiro’s thighs on the mattress only to earn a chuckle and a rough squeeze at the front of his jeans, debilitating him just long enough for the other to pop the top button and drag the zipper down. The way he near ripped those tight things off and flipped Keith like he didn’t weight somehow 1.5 times Lance’s weight had the boy sweating. He watched Shiro fling them and a pair of boxers elsewhere, wrangle Keith’s hands above his head and stroke his now naked cock not so gently. It _sounded_ bad; sounded like Keith was struggling and challenging but it wasn’t Shiro who he fought.

Those pale, muscular legs strained and Lance caught a peek of Keith’s hips pressing up, rutting into Shiro’s tight grip as a frustrated “Fuck!” flew out of his mouth before he slammed back down to the bed. The sound of the mattress creaked below and made Lance flinch back just enough for Shiro to turn and grin, his free hand beckoning with a curled finger.

“Lonely down there baby? Floor must be chilly with what you’ve got on.” Shiro didn’t bother to stop his movements as he spoke, hand still tugging relentlessly at Keith’s lap. “How about you come join us, Keith will warm you up.”

It was a damn trick. On one hand, Lance was much warmer up here, but on the other, he’d lost his bunny suit, now clad only in stockings and the thong underneath, the matching collar gone at some point he couldn’t remember. Keith was balanced over him and Shiro had been going at it long enough that the boy had collapsed, his face pressed directly against Lance’s crotch and his ass in perfect view for Lance to see each finger sink home over and over. Shiro was positioned above Lance’s head, his thighs splayed to each side just short of touching him, his tank top also lost in the sea of their bedroom floor. He’d been ordered to secure his hands underneath, opting to sandwich them between the small of his back and the blanket below and was regretting it with each passing moment because he wanted nothing more than to grab handfuls of those sweaty dark locks and press Keith harder against his aching cock.

Keith shook and moaned, fingers curling into the blanket near Lance’s hips on a particularly nice thrust, his cat ears abandoned and laying across long bunny legs.

“What was that Kitten? You want four fingers?” And it was Lance’s turn to lose composure, his own groan huffing out below as his hips did that tiny, needy thrust before he controlled himself, gaze forever locked on Shiro’s fingers disappearing into his boyfriend's ass.

“Ah, guess Lance answered for you. Four it is.” The delight in that devious voice was not missed by either of them but it was second in importance to the absolutely wrecked cry that shook out of Keith as he held his ground above Lance with trembling thighs and took that fourth like a champ.

Because Shiro was who he was, and clearly was having a great time this night, he stopped out of nowhere, not even one stroke to Keith’s cock the whole time he fingered him, and forced them to reassemble for his pleasure. Lance was now on his hands and knees before Shiro pressed down at his neck much like he’d done before, guiding the boy to lay across Keith’s thighs but reminding he couldn’t touch. Keith, who sat there with a scowl that barely masked what Lance could only consider to be horny rage, was forced into the pose he ‘couldn’t seem to hold’ earlier in the night- a simple kneel with hands clasped behind his back. Shiro was evil.

“Although you’re missing most of it now, I do appreciate what’s left of this costume. Tell Allura I’ll buy her new stockings.” That was all the warning Lance got before sure fingers gripped at the middle seam at the closest part available, Shiro easy tearing a giant hole to put a certain other hole he was more interested in on display. If Keith was in a horny rage, Lance was now in a horny panic.

A sharp gasp fell across Keith’s thighs and both boys tensed, earning a whole-hearted chuckle from Shiro at the other end. “What? Did you think I’d take these off? This is a much better view. It’s a shame a certain bad kitten can’t see.”

Shiro did exactly what he’d been meaning to the second he saw Lance in this outfit. Without any mercy, he pulled tanned asscheeks apart, snapped the thin string of black material once just to watch the bunny below him jolt, and let his hands wander as he pleased, squeezing the muscle silhouetted underneath sheer black. His plans for this one were similar to Keith’s, but unlike his rude cat, the boy below him now had earned his kindness.

Something in Lance was vexed by this- the careful and loving drag of two well-lubed fingers pressing into him, the string of his thong held carefully to the side as Shiro split him apart. On any other day he’d soak this up, pop his ass out just like how he knew Shiro wanted, let his soft, pleased moans drift along as his body relaxed. But Lance had watched him moments ago with Keith, watched Shiro toss him around and _take_ exactly what he wanted with a perceived lack of care. Lance wanted that. Lance wanted hard and rough, he wanted to feel what Keith was feeling now, the slight tremble of holding back, his cock hot and hard inches from Lance’s face and neither of them could do a damn thing about it.

“Please,” his voice dragged, ragged and desperate against Keith’s thighs, “More. Sir, please, like with...I want it like earlier. I want it like you gave to Keith.”

Shiro’s fingers stopped for a beat before plunging back in slowly, his other hand giving a soft pat to the boy’s half-clad ass. “You want four sweetheart? I do plan on taking you so usually three is enough but if you,”

“No!” Lance pouted, licked his lips and tried to tilt so he could see Shiro from behind but failed. “I mean, yes, but no. I just want… like you were with Keith. I want it. I promise I can take it, I wanna feel… please. If it’s too much I’ll say it but, please.”

The complete halt of everything had Lance’s stomach sinking like he’d just said the worst possible thing he could tonight. Worry instantly crept into him; anxiety over petulantly demanding something more than he was being given. He was good, Lance was _always_ good, he should just take what he was given and it was always wonderful, Shiro was more than Lance could ever fathom of someone behind closed doors and adding Keith in made it all kinds of amazing and fun but he’d pushed too far this time and the apology was there, bubbling up in the form of a beg that (un)fortunately never came out.

“Keith was a bad kitty.” Shiro’s voice was suddenly much closer, the sound of blanket crumpling under his bent weight not registering fast enough for Lance’s whirring mind. “And you’ve been nothing but a good little rabbit. If that’s what you want though- I’ll reward such a request.”

Poor Lance; the boy never had any warning. Well, maybe he did, but he was too slow to catch it, much too slow to register the whispered “Shit” from Keith’s mouth. The heavy, wonderful weight of Shiro pressing down against his back came too fast, those fingers trailing down his ribs to the curve of his ass before they dug rough enough for Lance to whimper before the hard curve of a thick cock under sweatpants ground right down into the spot of torn stockings.

The power of spooky-juice was gone now, long gone and in its wake was the ever-recurring thought that this would be how he died; crushed and bent and all the air escaping him too fast to catch any of it back.

Shiro had granted his request alright. The man had leaned away and with a surprising snap, tore apart the measly string that barely covered Lance’s goods. The mere thought of him doing that had the beginnings of drool start to slide against Keith’s thighs but it actually, for real, in real life just happened and if Lance thought he was losing his shit earlier he was on a different planet now.

“Up boy, show me your pretty hole, that’s it, so good for me, I’ll give you what you want, you’re laid out so nicely, just like how I take Keith.” Shiro wasted absolutely no time with this request, shucking his sweatpants down just enough to release his dick, skipping the threat of four fingers just to rub himself against Lance until he was clearly losing control.

If Lance had any focus left besides what was about to press into him, he would have heard the struggle Keith was having on his own, those deep, harsh breaths and near-glare at the man opposite of him. Of course, Lance saw nothing, didn’t catch the cocky grin Shiro gave his husband as he dribbled way too much lube from a lewd height, his other hand slapping at the mess he’d made of Lance’s ass, the trail already dripping down and soaking through the stockings.

“Remember baby, no touching. If you’re good I’ll consider taking care of you and Keith after.” Whatever reply that was about to come out of Lance died in his mouth, replaced with what might have been the loudest sound any of them had ever heard from him. Three fingers to prepare sounded like a fucking lie to Lance because what just shoved into him, much faster than how Shiro usually was, certainly felt like a healthy four fingers or more. Not that fingers mattered now, well maybe Keith’s did because Lance would kill for something to push into his mouth so he didn’t have to register what was actually coming out of it now as Shiro pounded into him so hard his head slid in Keith’s lap.

He did ask for it. He did recall, moments ago, wishing for what Keith got, wishing for that edge of aggression that Shiro seemed to pull back on with Lance for whatever reason. There was no regret but Lance did experience that first minute or so of uncertainty, wondering if he’d be able to walk tomorrow at all or if lube could dry so fast that Shiro’s cock would get stuck somehow because fucking hell, that was tight. Everything was tight and rough and his legs were already shaking bad and he couldn’t touch Keith any more than he was and Shiro was going to actually kill him.

“Shit baby, look at you.” Shiro’s voice was already wrecked, straining through each pull back and thrust forward. “Didn’t know you liked it like this, should’ve, should of known. Should of known both of you’d be so fucking filthy, so _good_ , fuck.”

Maybe Lance would look back at this moment and consider it fondly as a breaking point, but it was sort of useless given who he was because he seemed to have many of them, constantly, particularly when it came to Shiro and Keith.

He did break however. Lance picked his head up just enough so the harsh thrust would angle him closer to Keith’s cock, his hands releasing the sheets they’d been strangling to death to just get a little bit of skin contact, whatever he could touch of Keith’s legs. As Shiro reared back to grind his hips down once more, Lance pushed back to meet, the constant rhythm of slick skin interrupted but the louder smack it produced and it was fucking heaven and that, _that_ is when Lance lost it.

“Fuck! Fucking, yes, please Daddy, fuck me. Harder, please, ahh, more…” And that one declaration, that cry against Keith’s lap had Shiro losing whatever small amount of restraint left.

He fucked Lance how he fucks Keith, just like every time he’s being a brat on purpose, picking a fight, egging Shiro on just so he can smile at the bruises later to himself in the mirror. He’d earned them, they were _his_ , just like he was Shiro’s. Lance had done none of that but he wanted it so sweetly and Shiro could care less about how they arrived at whatever this was because, in the end, all that actually mattered was that it felt _right_ and everyone was getting their own sort of pleasure.

Shiro knew the grip he had on Lance’s hips would bruise, knew he’d need a bath and some Advil tomorrow but he didn’t give a single fuck because Lance was clenching around him like his life depended on it, had a garbled mess of a litany streaming openly against Keith’s cock which was, in all honesty, perfectly find because Keith looked about two minutes away from snapping and stealing Lance all for himself. With the steady gasps and cries and ‘Daddy’s that kept coming, Shiro wasn’t going to last longer than that time limit anyway.

“Such a good, _fuck_ , such a good boy. Take it baby, I know you- hah, want it. Want me to fill you up? Tell me, tell me how much you want my cum.” Shiro ground out, dangerously close and trying his best to hold back but unable to stop chasing the intoxicating feeling.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Lance that answered Shiro’s depraved call. Keith had finally snapped, his fingers sinking into Lance’s sweaty brown locks and two others dipping deep into the boy’s mouth knowing better than to chance his luck with his cock.

“He doesn’t need to say it, can’t you tell- he wore that just for us, knew what he was- exactly what he was doing, didn’t you? Bet you thought about us at that party, filling you up, you’d probably love it, huh Lance? Both of us, filling, _plugging_ you up nice, make you walk around the rest of the night full of our cum…”

Whatever more came out of Keith’s mouth, his dirty, _filthy_ mouth that always caused trouble didn’t really matter because it was more than enough to drive Shiro over the edge. The simple thought of Lance being filled and plugged and around other people dragged such an angry, possessive growl from him that Keith smiled, winning his little game as he watched his husband shake with exertion as he emptied everything into their boyfriend below.

For as vivid all of that had been, the next few moments were a bit jumbled because Shiro pulled out immediately, flipping Lance much like he’d done with Keith earlier, and stepped off the bed to the side with his savage gaze piercing right through Keith. The boy was too slow to retaliate after his small victory and Shiro quickly wrangled him, tugging his hands off Lance and pulling them to his back as his other hand snaked up the front of Keith’s throat, his grip tight and threatening but nowhere near a choke. Lance looked up at them, Keith’s chin tilted up so he couldn’t see anything over than the wide expanse of windows across the bedroom.

“Naughty boys, and here I’d thought I trained you better.” The exhaustion was clear in Shiro’s voice, but the edge of warning was still there. He looked down at Lance from over Keith’s shoulder, that hungry gaze somewhat sated now but something still lingered. “Keith’s got a good point- I’d hate for all of that to be wasted and leak out.” 

Lance, like the good(?) boy he was, in all his panting and bruised glory, slid a hand down between his still open thighs, not a single brush to his neglected cock, and shoved two fingers as deep as he could reach by himself. Shiro could see the glint of moisture near his eyes, dried trickles of tear tracks from his rough handling.

“I won’t let it Daddy, I promise.” The matched stares he got were worth every ache, Shiro’s hungry all over again and Keith’s struggling just to get a glance with how tightly his husband still held him. He struggled in Shiro’s grip for a second before he was released, Shiro’s hand releasing his wrists to wrap around Keith’s cock instead, pumping hard and fast how he knew the other loved it when he’d been denied for so long.

“Good boy. Go ahead, show us how much you love it in there. Use your other hand baby, I bet you can finish for me just like that. Bet you can get Keith too, show him how good you are for me.” Keith shivered with how close Shiro’s voice was, how gentle and loving it sounded and how filthy every word spilled, his power over them still absolute even after he’d gotten what he wanted.

Lance preened, bit at his lower lip and started to rock his hips back onto his own fingers slowly, his other hand drifting to the crotch of his stockings, his grip just as brutal as Shiro’s against Keith. He didn’t pull himself out, nor did he completely wrap around his aching length; he just pressed hard, let his body move and felt Shiro’s cum between his fingers deep in his ass as he looked up at both of them, close but unwilling to go over the edge because the depraved attention was hitting every single button just how he liked.

“Daddy…” Finally he broke, his own pet name for Shiro on his lips paired with the cry of a delayed release had him soaking what was left of his thong and stockings, his hips faster now as he chased the dirty feeling of Shiro’s mess inside him and the trapped mess he’d made on himself.

Apparently it was enough for everyone because Keith tried and failed to cut back his own pained moan, Shiro’s grip on his throat tight enough for him to struggle as he came, thick white painting Lance’s neck and chest as Shiro worked him through it, rumbling praise and adoration at them both as they finally came down from the intense session.

Keith cracked an eye open, chest heaving in air now that Shiro had released him to slump against the headboard. What he saw was Lance carefully scooping his cum with the fingers that weren’t still currently in his ass and carefully trailing them down until he could reach and attempt to push it in with what was left of Shiro’s.

  
“God, you’re worse than me, you know that right? Filthy slut, next time I’m doing it for real, right after Shiro. You’re getting a buttplug for Christmas too.” Keith shook his head, finally collapsing back down to his thighs before settling in Shiro’s lap behind him. 

“Shut up _Kitten_ , let me live my life ok? This is _my_ cum, I earned it, I get to do what I want with it. And yes, thank you, that _is_ what I want for Christmas.” Lance threw them both a lazy grin which melted into a pleased smile and sigh, his fingers still lazily moving inside himself, delighted with what they’d just shared together. He was far more awake now than he’d been in the car ride home.

“Soooo, I take it you liked my costume? Even though most of it's gone now….where are my ears? Shiro?” Lance pouted, staring at Shiro over Keith’s shoulder, still upside down on the bed and unwilling to move.

Shiro could only smile, exhausted and satisfied, fingers twined with Keith’s as they both looked down at the mess of a boy they’d invited into their lives.

“Don’t worry about it baby, you look perfect right now.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so you ever just hear a song and are like, wow I have to write with that because it made me cry? Anyways, ya'll ready for some LANGST??
> 
> Fun fact, I cannot write unless I am totally alone in complete silence and this whole thing was thought up because of a single song...silly but, inspiration comes from wherever! I strongly implore you to listen to it, because mood and, well. Elliott Smith is good.
> 
> [ Elliott Smith - Twilight ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cOV9T5mq47g)

It was March, already.

It was March, and Lance was here, frowning down at his phone over Hunk’s reminder. Yeah, that paper was due soon, yes, he remembered to turn in the draft. Of course, he’d met with his classmates for the group project. Hunk was just worried, didn’t even have the same classes or even major as Lance but he still kept track because he was that sort of dude. A great pal. Best buddy who would not shut up about meeting Shiro already because Keith was no longer a mystery.

It wasn’t the reminder that had Lance sending back what he knew was a condescending amount of fake-ass smiley faces. It was the fact that it was fucking _March_ and every single day marched him closer to the finish line, to when all of those papers and projects and tests didn’t matter anymore because he’d be done. He’d be graduating early June.

It was March and Lance had roughly three months left in this perfect house, surrounded by things he knew, smells that started to become home. That annoying crack in the hardwood near the bedroom door. The way the cabinet on the top left creaked like it was dying if you pulled it too far out. The ratty old plaid blanket that was always thrown over the couch, edges frayed, a corner staind something that Keith swore wasn’t motor oil and Shiro swore it couldn’t be anything else.

He stood alone in the kitchen, staring blankly at said cabinet door with his phone in his hand and something heavy settling in his stomach.

They’d never talked about it. Well, scratch that - Shiro and Keith always asked him about school, were always wanting to know if he was doing well, if taking those summer courses paid off, if he was sleeping enough, if it was really okay to come over this weekend. And it was great, everything was going great. Everything was on track. Great.

And Lance still had no idea what he’d do after it was all finished. It made that heavy feeling dip lower just trying to think of the future. He didn’t want that right now, he came here for everything that _wasn’t_ that. The cabin was freeing and his boyfriends made it feel like a slightly mirrored reality, like he was spirited away from his weekly grind and somehow just deposited here in a domestic bliss that he was sure he’d never be able to replicate. The thought of losing this…

He left his phone on the kitchen table, tried to leave his worries there too as he slid on Shiro’s too-big house slippers and Keith’s extra hoodie that was always there on the back of the chair next to the porch door.

It was cold still, almost cold enough for Lance to go back and seek out his jacket but it wasn’t worth the effort. March was always a weird month; sometimes it was knee deep in half-frozen snow, the sort that was just this hard, grey ice-slush that collected everywhere and refused to melt. Other years it was just mud, that awful, dirty two weeks before spring actually bothered to show up. This year seemed to settle on the first option, as if it was one to begin with; this high up in the north the cold always seemed to linger longer, give you those few extra weeks to make sure you were miserable about winter.

He shuffled out, zipping up Keith’s dark hoodie over his long sleeve before the zipper got too cold to manage, letting the door click behind him. Shiro had picked him up tonight, his old truck rumbling up to the coffee shop right as Coran shooed him out. Lance didn’t need to go back to his apartment anymore; he had his own bottom drawer in their dresser, his extra toothbrush next to theirs in the bathroom.

Shit, there goes that feeling again.

He hadn’t seen Keith yet tonight. Shiro had pulled him in, ruffled his hair until it looked absurd and pecked him on the lips quick before mentioning something about a shower and Keith on the porch. So here he was now, hands deep in familiar pockets, gaze trailing to where he assumed Keith would be and bingo- said boyfriend was hunched over on their bench. The small pinpoint of dull orange sitting in its ashtray on the table before him was the only source other than what naturally came through from the windowed wall of the cabin.

Lance made it one step before he froze, the soft strum of acoustic filling the small covered section of the porch. It drifted out, down to the woods below and the lake out further and the rest of the dark, starry sky. He realized belatedly that this wasn’t a new thing, that Keith had been playing long before he went to open the porch door, maybe even before he got home with Shiro.

If Keith noticed him he didn’t care because he didn’t stop, clear and slow and not familiar at all to Lance but it felt like Keith knew it. Lance would never get just how deep Keith could know something like this because he didn’t share it. It was always assumed that the guitar in the corner of the living room belonged to Shiro. It _looked_ like it would but Lance had never bothered to ask, never bothered to see if he’d play for him or anything. It wasn’t his, it was Keith’s. Keith never played for anyone other than himself.

So when Lance heard the steady drift of sure voice seamlessly slide along with the cords he didn’t know what to do with himself.

 

_“You don’t deserve to be lonely. But those drugs you got won’t make you feel better._

_Pretty soon you’ll find it’s the only, little part of your life you’re keeping together.”_

 

That feeling started to well up again, more solid and substantial, every little worry he’d banished to the kitchen table right back where he didn’t want them, tucked tightly somehow within his ribcage like it never really left in the first place. Each strum seemed to push it deeper, wedge into every corner and Lance could only stare like an idiot at the back of Keith’s perfect head. He wanted badly to know since when could Keith sing, since when could he play like that? Since when did he sit alone outside in March in his winter jacket and no gloves and sing something so honestly that Lance had never heard but knew the weight of by the way it dug at his heart?

He felt himself move because standing by the door was stupid, pretending Keith didn’t hear the slide and click of the door was unrealistic but Lance was still terrified he’d stop, that he’d ruin whatever _this_ was.

There was only a few seconds of pause, painful seconds of Keith tilting in his direction and somehow being okay with Lance there because he turned back to woods, let his fingers turn back to the strings and offered Lance something he never wanted to admit to feeling.

 

_“I’m nice to you. I could make it through. That you’re already somebody’s baby._

_I could make you smile, if you stayed a while. But how long will you stay with me, baby.”_

 

He’d been off to the side, enough space so he wasn’t crowding Keith but close enough to hear. Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe everything Lance had been doing since he met them was a mistake. Those lyrics took the feeling deep in him and strangled, crushed it so tight that there was nowhere else to go so instead it went everywhere, popped and splattered against everything and left Lance feeling raw and confused and alone.

Because really, how long would he stay? How many times had he looked into Shiro’s eyes when he called him by that same endearing name? How many times had he seen the man run his fingers across Keith’s jaw and look at him with a fondness that only time could give? Time he didn’t have with them. Time that was disappearing each day and it was already March and he’d graduate soon and everything would be… 

He watched himself grip the edge of the porch, the worn, weathered grain threatening to splinter even though he could remember Shiro proudly explaining he’d hand sealed it himself. He’d touched every part of this house, let Keith do the same as they built something together, something Lance had no part of. Something he’d just shown up to, late, without any solid plan and no idea or care if he was lost here.

But he felt it now; the deep press of uncertainty. Everything he’d hidden below, a lack of confidence, unresolved feelings that he could just never tell them. The sudden deafening realization that he didn’t deserve them. That they didn’t really need him either.

He missed the moment Keith stopped playing, the jarring silence and abrupt end of the song because he was too focused on not throwing up. Focused on the strange way the wood below his hand started to dot with tiny, damp circles. Put all of his effort in fighting the wobble of his knees because he was an adult now; he was about to graduate and start his life and there were only a few months now because it was already March.

“Lance.” Ignored, or maybe just not fully comprehended, but the sound was familiar.

“Lance, hey. Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Keith’s voice was closer now but it didn’t matter.

The guitar was left on the bench, the cigarette was left forgotten in the ashtray and amongst the swirling mix of torture Lance was putting himself through silently. He added ‘ruining Keith’s song’ to the list.

“Baby, tell me wh…” And it was that. It was _that_ paired with Keith’s hand resting on his shoulder, trying to tilt his boyfriend from the death grip he kept on the railing. It was that which tipped him over, eyebrows pinched together as he told himself not to cry even though it was already happening; he’d already failed.

Lance tried to push him away, couldn’t bring himself to look at Keith as his hand shook to swat the one on his shoulder off, overbalanced on his step back and god, he was just a fucking mess because Keith caught him just like that. He steadied Lance, held one hand in his own that didn’t know where to go and the other skirted along his chin, sympathetically forced him to turn even though Keith could tell this was painful- whatever this was.

For a moment there was nothing. For a single, far too long moment, Keith saw a lot of things Lance had never shown him. He’d watched tears trickle from those eyes more than once, sometimes in sadness, far more often for other reasons but it was never like this. It was never so pained, like he was bearing himself and trying to shield at the same time. Like whatever this was and whatever prompted it was a terrible secret. Lance didn’t want to share this but there wasn’t any choice left now because it was happening.

Keith would have been different, would have tried to shake the answer out of this crumbling boy but he knew better, better at guessing what to give Lance and how to rely on Shiro when he got stuck. Somehow this still felt bigger and Keith silently pleaded to whatever concept of religion that could possibly still exist in a form which could help him now.

“Hey, it’s ok. Whatever it is, it’s ok. You can tell me, I won’t be mad.” Keith was gentle; his voice, his fingers, the way he closed the space between them to try to get Lance closer.

Lance wished that were true but he couldn’t find his voice enough to warn Keith. All he could manage was to tangle his fingers weakly, feel ashamed over the way his tears wouldn’t stop and just stare back, thoughts unable to land on a single solid thing so all he could get out was,

“I can’t.” _I’ll miss you._

Keith’s eyes narrowed in concern and Lance didn’t have anything left in him to try to explain it. He couldn’t make the translation now, it wouldn’t make any sense unless Keith could hear the hurricane of regrets that fought to form any sort of coherent point in his head.

It was March and Lance already missed him, even though Keith was right here.

Keith’s lips parted to question be he was interrupted, his focus shifting from Lance to the soft slide of door and Shiro stepping out into the cold night, unaware of what was unfolding a few feet in front of him.

“There you are, do you guys want something to eat? I know it’s a bit late but I…” Shiro stopped, his hand frozen gesturing to the kitchen through the closed door. He’d caught Keith’s gaze and just a sliver of Lance’s profile, his words dying in his mouth just from one glance.

“What happened.” The question came as a demand but Shiro’s actions contradicted his stern words. He made it over to them in a few quick strides, slotting himself behind Lance and curling his arms protectively around the boy’s middle. He looked to Keith again for some sort of answer but was met with nothing, just a small shake of his head and a deeper frown that Shiro felt across his own face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Shiro soothed.

And oh, there was that feeling again, and there was Lance again, breaking more than he knew he could ever.

This time his knees came close to following through, shaking as his body was wracked with a new wave of sorrow, that fucking _name_ that came from Shiro’s lips, taunting him and nailing down deeper like Keith’s song. It hurt, it hurt worse than he wanted to admit, a sharp pang in his chest making everything feel like he was drowning, like he couldn’t catch his breath, like this all should have never happened.

He crumpled forward, hot tears streaking fast and landing on Keith’s jacket as he hid himself there because he couldn’t bare to look at either of them, to know they could see him ugly crying now like some child whose mother said no to Lucky Charms in the cereal aisle. He practically was one, compared to them; just a child throwing a teary tantrum because he wouldn’t get the answer he wanted today.

“Hey,..” Shiro tried again, his arms a bit tighter around Lance, remembering how he liked to feel secure and safe, said Shiro’s arms were big enough for him and Keith. “It’s ok, whatever it is. You can tell us, or you don’t have to- whatever you need, we’re here.”

It was harder this way. Like it would be easier if they did something mean instead of being perfect and thoughtful and holding him together by the few threads that Lance felt like snapping himself now. They weren’t going to let him off easy, he couldn’t just wipe his nose and laugh it off and just blame everything on a final project. It was too deep now; they _knew_ him. It was his fault.

Lance felt the heavy sigh beneath his forehead as Keith exhaled, felt the soft push of Shiro’s hair tickle his neck before lips pressed against the only available patch of skin available. Yeah, it would be easier if he couldn’t feel how much they cared.

“It’s March.” Half mumbled against Keith’s shoulder, sandwiched between an abruptly cut off sob and sniffle. He untangled his fingers from his boyfriend’s, the touch lingering as Keith refused to let go for a moment before he accepted what came in return. Lance pressed each palm against the jacket in front of him, fists automatically balling the fabric there as he tried to brace for the conversation he’d never wanted to have.

A moment of silence passed, both Keith and Shiro trying to work through what those words meant, or more accurately, what they meant to Lance. Keith was first.

“Is that...bad? You don’t like the month or…” A risk he knew, throwing out a prompt like that but he ran his free fingers into messy brown locks and just let Lance hold on. He’d let him hold on forever if that's what he needed.

It was bad. It was so fucking bad and Lance got the urge right then to just shake him even though it was unfair because he’d never said anything about it all, not even a warning.

“...I don’t have much time left.” Almost a whisper but the way each of them tensed Lance knew they’d heard him. A part of him wished they hadn’t because the second it came from his lips so did more tears, silent and hot and making a mess of everything just like he always did.

“Baby, but that’s what you’ve been working so hard for, you even took extra in the summer to stay on track. It’s ok to feel scared after, it’s normal.”  Lance knew if he turned he’d see the concentrated frown Shiro must be wearing now, trying to find the right words for this.

And Lance loved him for it, _loved_ him in the first place, and that’s why all of this was so hard.

“I don’t have much time left.” He repeated, louder this time because he was so sure of it. “I don’t...have much time left here. I don’t know what happens after I graduate, I don’t... I can’t.”

His effort was there but neither of them were going to let it happen. Lance tried to pull back, to detangle himself from their hands and hearts and just, make it as painless as possible but they wouldn’t _let_ him. He got three inches off of Keith’s shoulder before the other pressed his head back down, tucked his cold nose against a warm neck and just held him as tight as Shiro was behind him. Like he’d disappear if they didn’t.

Keith still didn’t understand what caused it but he didn’t fucking care. The way the words came out, the way he’d so carefully crafted each wall, building and building around the worry, having to rebuild a little bigger each time something threatened to break through. He knew that self-inflicting suffering well and it was ending right the fuck now.

“Sweetheart, what do you want to do? You told us you were thinking of graduate school - did you mean here? Somewhere else? You have time left Lance, you don’t need to figure it out tonight. It’s only March.” Keith was careful, not pushy, letting Lance press closer and feeling hot tears trail down his neck.

Some small part of his mind that still rejected all of this, all of what he’d been given by these two amazing people, was clawing angrily now to get out. What did it matter what month it was; he’d finish and he’d leave and Shiro and Keith would go on with their lives. Lance was just a pleasant distraction; temporary fun. They _knew_ he was graduating and yet here he stood, unable to hide away a single feeling but tripping over the words that should have come out months ago.

Why was this so fucking hard? Why was it tonight. Why did it matter so much.

“No. You don’t understand. I’m graduating.” And those shaky fingers balled up tighter on Keith’s jacket, Lance’s voice more sure now the further he got frustrated with himself.

“I don’t have much time left with _you_.” There. He said it. Everything out now, spilled all over the deck, spilled right between the two people he didn’t ever want to leave. It’d be great if he could stop crying, real great. Any time now. There could only be so many seconds of silence here, but damn did they seem to be testing it.

Normally Lance would have this all planned out, have three or four scenarios of how something could go down fairly quickly, maybe more if he dwelled on it. For this, however, the deep avoidance and denial he’d crafted over what graduating meant past getting that stupid piece of paper had overridden his nervous habit of running everything through his head. Maybe that's why it hurt more when he felt Shiro’s arms unwind from his middle; because he’d never imagined the sharp stab to his heart that the simple shift was causing now.

This would be how it ended. They’d let him cry it out, maybe Shiro would insist he ate something and then someone would drive him back to his apartment because what’s the point in continuing something that's just going to end? Why drag it out like this.

He pulled back this time and Keith let him go. Lance wiped at his tears and kicked himself mentally because now Keith’s borrowed hoodie was all gross and he was making everything worse and he should probably just leave now and Keith was staring at him with this _look_ like...oh. Right. Funny when you find the exact moment you hear your own voice. When you realize those words weren’t just in your head.

“I’m sorry, fucked up a perfectly good night I don’t know what happened. I guess there aren’t like...Uber’s out here huh...shit. Well, I’ll just…” And that was that. That was Lance turning away, making it approximately two steps back to the door before he was enveloped in Shiro’s big arms, whatever he’d been looking at gone now as his face was pressed tightly to a plaid long sleeve that did nothing to hide the strong muscle beneath.

“Who told you that? That you don’t have time left? Baby, you have as much time as you want with us. As long as you’ll have us. It’s up to you, we’ll support whatever you want to do after graduation, don’t worry so much about it.” The waver in Shiro’s voice at the end triggered a lump in Lance’s throat and all he could do to hold on was to literally, hold on.

He didn’t deserve them. He didn’t deserve that level of kindness. They never talked about it, Lance has just assumed the end would be the end. No questions, no other options.

Keith’s hands snaked around bony hips, careful not to let his cold fingers up between Lance’s shirt and skin as he rubbed along each side, mirroring Shiro’s previous position.

“No pressure,” His voice was devoid of its normal bravado, just soft and reassuring. “I know more than anyone you gotta decide what's right for you. But we’ll be here, if you want it. If it works out with your plans.”

“I just, I don’t know what I want, I guess I never thought I’d actually make it this far, or if I did, there would be no reason to stay.” Lance let out a shaky sigh, feeling less like a taped together Jenga tower now that he knew- he knew they wanted him, somehow. Still.

“...I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave _here_. I don’t want to leave you both. I thought I’d just have to, and I’m scared that I still will. Like I’m supposed to. You’re already married and I’m just… I never even thought we’d…” He stopped, feeling the reassuring press of Shiro’s fingers through his hair and Keith solidly pressing himself along Lance’s back.

“Sweetheart, it doesn’t matter how much you plan life, things will just happen. Some are hard, some are unplanned, and some are wonderful, like you. Whatever happens, just know we’ve loved every second with you and if things work out now, or down the line, where we can share more of our life together, you know where to find us.” Shiro planted a kiss atop Lance’s head, fingers still dragging in soothing circles in his hair.

Despite his messy tears, despite the dampness that was soaking through Shiro’s shirt now (and some of that was for sure from his nose, gross), Lance smiled.

“Or. Orrrrr, you could just stay now, so I don’t have to deal with Shiro sad wandering all over the house forever. How about that?” Keith offered, this time his fingers _did_ wander up Lance’s ribs although they weren’t as death-cold as before. It got the reaction he wanted however because his boyfriend tensed and hissed, trying to swat Keith’s hands away.

“Keith, you can’t force him into anything, he’s at a big point in life, don’t make him feel like he has to…”  Lance wiggled out of Shiro’s grasp, standing up straighter and cutting off his sentence.

“Ok but like, how? I didn’t fill out anything for graduate school, my lease is about to expire before the summer hits. I haven’t even started job searching so like, how would I even…” Lance was frowning, trying to work through the steps that Keith had apparently already paved the way through.

“Just stay. Here, with us? For the summer. I bet Coran would love your help at the shop, you could look into graduate stuff, or job searches...whatever you want really. One of the guys at the shop is trying to sell his old Civic, I could probably work a deal so you don’t have to rely on us for rides. I’m not saying- Shiro stop looking at me with your dad frown, I’m not saying you gotta, just that...why not? If you wanted to.” Keith was trying his best to be sincere but that smug grin was seconds away from breaking because he could read Lance from a mile away.

“Really? You’d really let me? The whole summer, live here- with you. You’re really ok with me just, all over your stuff, trying to figure out my life? Me, just shoved right up in the middle of your happy marriage and also your bed because I would demand that position and there’s a certain pillow I prefer from your pile and…” Lance stopped because Keith was laughing now, pressing his face against whatever he could of his boyfriend while he remained half turned and trapped between them.

And maybe it was contagious because Lance turned back to Shiro, his own chuckle plastered across those perfect lips and he was leaning closer and closer, fingers digging slightly into the hair along his neck before he claimed Lance’s mouth as his own. Keith leaned up from behind, echoing the reassuring kisses with his own soft ones along Lance’s neck. Maybe it was silly to let those intrusive thoughts in, but maybe it was a worse idea to bury them. Right now though, right now they were gone and so were his tears because he felt so right like this, between them, with them.

Shiro pulled away and smiled down at him, eyes flicking momentarily to Keith behind, his expression melting into something a bit older and fond.

“Really. If that's what you want, I’m sure we could handle it. And for the record, just in case some part of you still doesn’t get it, we love you shoved right up in the middle.” Shiro released his grasp of Lance to gesture at the three of them, sandwiched awkwardly in the middle of the big porch like they needed to huddle for warmth.

Lance was about to reply, no doubt something lewd on the tip of his tongue but Keith grabbed him harder, grabbed his chin and tilted it to the side so he could take his kiss as well, this time unable to stop the pleased grin that broke through. They parted and he pressed a softer one at the corner of Lance’s mouth, the grip on his chin trailing to brush slowly across a still tear tracked cheek.

“We’ll figure it out baby, whatever you want. Let's go inside, I’ll sing you a better song. And no, it’s not going to be Rihanna so don’t ask.”

Some things remained unspoken and they were more obvious now, but it wasn’t the right time tonight. Shiro watched his boys go, felt his heart swell at the honest laughter that spilled from Lance and the playful shove Keith gave him as they went back into the house. He walked back over to the bench, pressed the remains of a cigarette hard into the ashtray and hefted Keith’s guitar up from it’s forgotten place before following them.

 

_Because your candle burns too bright. Well, I almost forgot it was twilight._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, has it been a hot minute or what? Anyway, to make up for the multiple times I read that the last chapter made people cry, uh, here is something that hopefully won't? Make anyone cry? I'm so sorry, I never meant that to happen.
> 
> Also, if you are curious, even though I told myself NO. I won't add more music into this fic! And then I did anyway...uh, here it is! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Fleetwood Mac - Say You Love Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zLQ4ukqMec)
> 
> EXTRA EDIT: I was gifted some amazing fanart for this and I NEED to share it. Please give artofnana707 some love, I'm so ecstatic over this ;-; 
> 
> [The Currents Will Shift - Art by artofnana707](https://artofnana707.tumblr.com/post/183336396060/im-reading-this-amazing-shirolancekeith-story)

Neither of these moments happened how Lance had imagined them.

Neither of these moments was anything he could have anticipated, expected, or planned for.

\---

It wasn’t anything special. Another weekend, another morning waking up where he felt at home, his own bed back at the apartment somehow lost the title and Lance didn’t really care to give it back. Here had started off feeling like a sleepover and now the spots were switched, now when he went back for classes his bed was just a space, just somewhere he could occupy when he needed to sleep, whenever he needed to be walking distance to the part of his life he was trying to finish. The whole reason he was here in the first place.

It took a while, plenty of nagging and whining but Keith finally tried, either just to shut Lance up or because he’d actually folded to the other’s will. He’d been so vehemently against it for no logical reason; Lance barely remembered what he’d said that very first day they met- something about Keith hating coffee, which seems so absurd given his mood and unwillingness to get out of bed in the morning. The reality of it was that Keith hated the way Shiro preferred it and had never bothered to try his own version, writing it off as a lost cause and unneeded pick-me-up.

But Lance was persistent. Lance was the type of annoying trial and error, the constant push and praise that he planned to discover exactly what Keith liked and he’d not stop until that perfect moment.

Working at Coran’s helped in this endeavor. In fact, he’d become quite the barista, no longer fumbling through orders and spilling shit every shift that made Pidge give him  _ that _ look, like she was capable of blinking someone out of existence just from her sheer force of will. No. No, see  _ Lance _ , he had found his groove, could take Pidge’s call and deliver efficiently, finger guns and all. He knew every special, he even helped Coran with seasonal things, asked around in his classes what people longed for from back home, what the single coffee shop in this desolate college town was missing and then did his best to fill that gap. Trying to replicate anything that would make someone just a little less homesick.

Maybe that urge dripped into what he did now, although Lance still didn’t have a good grasp on what someone like Keith would want to dredge up from the past and recreate in his morning drink. Instead, he pulled from what he knew: Keith liked sweet things, but not overly so. He liked bitter things, but too much and it wasn’t worth the effort. He liked not having to do anything and reaping the benefits and god, sometimes Shiro delivered on that but Lance. This was Lance’s whole  _ thing _ . 

And now it was  _ their _ thing. Now it was Lance balancing a plate of buttered toast while he cracked open the porch door, almost overfull mug clenched in his other hand as he went to deliver breakfast. And let’s get this straight: it was never demanded. No one in this house ever asked Lance to do any of the things that he insisted on. He just did them, sometimes because he woke up before anyone else, sometimes because he just needed to move, and sometimes, like right now, he needed to show for himself. Some weird little display that he probably inherited from his mom but couldn’t for the life of him explain  _ why _ shoving a plate of toast and coffee down in front of one of his grumpy boyfriends made him feel good. But damn, did it ever, especially when Keith looked up from his phone, hair sticking up in places that didn’t make sense when considered gravity existed, and flashed the smallest knowing smile because this wasn’t the first time and there was no way in hell it would be the last.

“You’re usually still drooling on my arm at this hour, what’s up? Planning on a nice brisk jog by the lake? Doing your taxes bright and early? Sneaking out of bed to hide the last box of girl scout cookies from Shiro?” Lance questioned, settling the breakfast Keith didn’t request on the porch table, sliding the steaming mug next to it and standing back up to stretch, turning towards the lake to see if the sun would break through the dark grey that struggled to lift away.

“Yeah, all of those actually, gonna be a rough morning, probably should have made yourself something since I’m going to force you to help.”

Selfless- Lance never really coined himself like that because he could be a real dramatic bitch when he wanted to be. Some things in life  _ were _ just about him and he’d fight for that if it meant something. But here, with them, Keith and Shiro always came first. The concept bled into everything, seamless and natural as if it was just how they all were supposed to exist. In this case, it meant Lance didn’t even bother to make himself toast and coffee and he probably wouldn’t until after Shiro was up and fed. It happened like this often enough that Keith could call him out on it and all Lance could do is shrug. It’s just how it is now.

“Listen I usually just let Turbo Tax do everything for me so if it’s more complicated than that for you guys, I highly urge you to leave me far away from that mess. The rest I can help with though- I might have already put the cookies behind the pots and pans you won’t throw out but don’t use because you’d die from how much Teflon is scratched off them.” Lance turned back, arms dropping to his sides as he made his way around the low table, his teasing grin sinking to something softer as he eyed the plate, half the toast already gone and crumbs splattered across Keith’s hoodie as evidence.

He sat, just the sound of the wood creaking beneath his weight, enough space between them that Keith wouldn’t be bothered but if he wanted to, he could reach out. A comfortable distance, nothing more, nothing less. He remembers learning the wrath of cranky morning Keith, watched the very man yell at his husband over finishing off  _ his _ honey nut Cheerios. Lance had never seen Shiro in such ashamed light; he’d offered on the spot to go drive to the store for more but Keith just glared and gripped a banana too tight, cigarette already dangling from his lip before he grumbled about ‘grounds for divorce’ and shoved himself out to the porch for some quality alone time. 

Lance knew better than that, knew how to navigate the choppy morning storm that was Keith and if he was being honest with himself, he might even be an expert at it now. The movement next to him caused a quick glance, confirming that his boyfriend finally went for the coffee.

“One day they’ll just be gone and Shiro won’t know what to do with himself. I’ll blame it on you though, hard for him to get mad that way. Shit, this is good. Better than last time.” Keith had gone for his pack and lighter with one hand, mug in the other but he was paused in place, clearly enjoying what Lance had crafted as he went in for another sip.

There were a lot of things he wanted to say to that, most urgently ‘Yeah, I know’ but refrained from jabbing back at Keith because he looked so damn peaceful right now. The asshole had the audacity to even close is eyes, hunched forward over his coveted caffeine, the contents of his mug trumping even his trusty go-to gripped in his other hand. Like it was a religious experience. Like the extra drip of hazelnut buttercream, Lance mixed into the rest was a minor deity. 

Keith was hard, standoffish all the time but there was a simple trick to him. If you just waited long enough, through the glares and taunts, he always gave himself away. He hated Shiro’s coffee: cream, no sugar, boring and not worth anyone else’s time. But Lance didn’t give up. He made Keith coffee every time it was appropriate to, drank the cup if Keith deemed it unacceptable until one morning Lance made something that he didn’t shove back into his hands. Success, glory, and a sense of pride: all things Lance had to keep under wraps because if he even whispered that he’d conquered his boyfriend's hatred of said beverage Keith would ruin it immediately just because someone had to boast about it. Instead, he just smiled, internally screaming before he turned to go back to the kitchen and make some for himself.

“Nice, haven’t tried it yet, I’ll let Coran know it passes the Keith Test.” That got a light chuckle and Lance watched as Keith leaned back on the bench, lighter and cigarettes left on the table.

It wasn’t anything special, but Lance felt lucky. Even if something like this was so small, such a tiny impact he could make in Keith’s life. In every moment of his boyfriend’s existence, this particular thing was so tiny and unimportant; who cares if someone drinks coffee or not? But for Lance, it was something bigger, something he could give over and over. Keith didn’t drink coffee unless Lance brought it for him. That fact was well-known but never spoken of. Lance would never break the silence on it either, half-convinced if he did, Keith would refuse it the next time.

And a lot of things were like that for them, for all of them. Sometimes Lance wished it wasn’t, sometimes he wishes moments and smiles had something else behind them, just a little bit more that he swore he could feel but didn’t know how to voice. Don’t ruin the good thing you have with overthinking it. How many times had he told that to himself, his whole life?

Enjoy what you have while you have it. Be thankful for it.

The rest of the toast was gone by the time he looked over again, Keith content to sit in silence this early in the morning and Lance not awake enough to be his normal level of annoyingly alert. WIthout thought, he went to grab the plate, respectful of his boyfriend’s preferred alone time, now featuring coffee thanks to a certain someone.

“Shiro should be up soon,” And he reaches across, dips into Keith’s personal bubble. “Promised him an omelette last night so,” But he only makes it so far because Keith’s fingers are wrapping around his wrist, the lip of the plate stuck a few inches off the table where it slid from Lance’s grasp.

Lance turns, confused as to why Keith would want him to leave an empty plate, nearly says it out loud, gaze flickering to the half gone coffee settled in the space between them but he never gets the chance to ask. 

“I love you.”

His eyes snap back up, staring, motionless and so utterly surprised and confused that nothing within Lance’s being is able to translate this. He’d dreamed of this, not  _ this _ , how it is, but the words, of Keith, wondered uselessly how it would sound, where they’d be. It wasn’t ever like this; always,  _ always _ , Lance says it first. Confident, teary-eyed, overjoyed: it didn’t matter. Keith never speaks first, he only always replies.

So right now, in the few long moments it takes for Lance’s life to disintegrate and build itself back up, all he can do is continue to stare. Keith must know some secret to the universe because all he’s doing is looking back, waiting for his boyfriend to process it all, no waiver of confidence and no hint of annoyance. 

A lot of things happen at once, but unfortunately, all of them are internal. The only indication that the message got through is an upwards tilt of an eyebrow and the smallest inch backward as if the waves of realization physically caused Lance to crash back. For once in his life, he’s speechless. It’s one thing to dream and wish, it’s a totally different thing to have it actually happen, to be caught so off guard that every word you recited just for this specific moment is suddenly gone. That faced with the knowledge that someone feels so deeply for you, all you can do is offer silence. So naturally, because Lance is who he is, the first thing that falls from his mouth is,

“Why?”

And Keith, for all his temper and petulance, doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t even give Lance an opening to recover, like he anticipated that question in some version of this all happening in his own mind.

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

And it’s so infuriating simple, phrased so easily that Lance can’t deny it or think of one solid answer to give back. Maybe if he had some warning, maybe if he knew this would be going down on a random weekend morning he could have come prepared. A list, detailed and long, all the reasons someone should spend their love on anyone but him, why he was great but not great enough to earn that. Why someone like Keith, who already has a life full of love from an amazing husband, shouldn’t try to carve out space for Lance, because where even would it come from? Where would he fit?

As it love was finite, as if the heart was an actual container and loving Lance meant loving Shiro just a little less so that amount could be stolen away.

Lance wanted to ask how. How could he be so much to Keith, how could he love him with his heart so full already, with the future uncertain and drifting but the thought came and went. Keith stared back, his eyes determined in a way that Lance recognized there would be no debating this topic. It didn’t matter if Lance couldn’t accept the how and why; Keith loved him anyway.

The coffee still held between them, Keith pulled Lance in, hand drifting from wrist up to shoulder and deep into the short hairs at the back of his boyfriend’s neck. Soft, uncharacteristically so but Lance didn’t fight it, had no reason or want to. He let himself be tugged forward, closed his eyes when the distance closed between them and fought back the threatening lump in his throat because now wasn’t the time for that; he could cry later to himself in the shower because this moment was more important than the late process of feelings.

Keith’s lips, gentle in their press with a hint of coffee, sealed his conviction of feelings, urged Lance to accept them wholly. The insistence was there, strong and urgent despite how soft it felt and Lance let himself drown, let his vulnerability shake through his fingers as they ghosted over Keith’s against the mug. He’d loved Keith for so long, trapped that secret away convinced that if it were to ever be whispered, it would break the spell of their relationship altogether.

He never imagined how wrong he could be, how relieved and nervous and overjoyed he could feel all at once and suddenly he couldn’t get enough. Keith had to know how much he loved him back. 

So Lance did his best to show him, pressed back against the lips he’d kissed so many times before but never with so much meaning. He leaned into Keith’s space, shattered the quiet alone-time that was so carefully crafted and wrapped all of himself around. He pulled back enough to breathe, enough to get out a shaky exhale as he pressed his forehead against his boyfriend’s and grinned despite the way his body felt now, light headed and unsteady.

“I love you too, so much.”

\----

Lance wondered later, because these same words came from both of them within a week of each other, if this was all somehow planned.

\---

Midday with nothing planned, Keith having woken them both up with a quick explanation that there was an emergency at the shop, that they needed whoever could show up and even though he always had today off, left Lance and Shiro to fend for themselves. Without a promise of a return time, they both eventually fell back asleep, pressed together under the sheets as if the contact would make up for the lack of one missing body. 

Despite time ticking away, each day dragging closer to Lance’s goal, he felt comfort in these weekends away where time didn’t really matter. Where Shiro delighted in tugging him deeper into the bed, rumbling with that particular scratchy morning laughter when he tried to escape anyway, tried to explain that he  _ needed _ to make them breakfast. 

It felt right like this tangled in the sheets, hugging Keith’s pillow to his chest, with Shiro’s warm palm sliding from his shoulder to elbow to hip. Home was this bed, messy and soft, even if one of them was missing.

In the beginning it had felt off; Lance couldn’t manage to feel quite comfortable if Shiro was gone for the night or if Keith was going to be late. It took even longer for him to chase away the residual feelings of ‘cheating’, as if him kissing Keith when Shiro wasn’t there to watch was some form of blasphemy. The mere concept that these perfect married men had not even a hint of jealousy in these situations, or at the very least no real ill-feelings, seemed far-fetched. But like everything, time only brought proof and the more it happened, the more reassurance and touch Lance got, the better he fell into the pattern that was meant for them.

So now, when he fell into Shiro’s grasp but shucked the covers off them, the thought didn’t even occur to him. A normal morning, well, afternoon if Lance was squinting well enough at the clock across the room. He opened his mouth to protest again because even he was hungry at this hour, but Shiro beat him before he could even start.

“Take a bath with me. I’ll go start it, can you find something easy to eat and bring it when you’re done?”

And how could Lance say no to that? What person in the right mind would ever tell a man like Shiro that no, I refuse to bring you back a perfect spread of easily consumed by hand foods while we soak together naked in warm water? The answer to that is no one. No one should ever leave this man unfulfilled of a request like that.

Lance had not even offered any sort of answer besides the breathy little huff that escaped between his lips before he was scrambling to get off the bed, Shiro losing his grip on sharp hip bones, unprepared for the speed and intensity of which Lance catapulted himself out of their warm cocoon. He could hear laughter from the bedroom, the sort that made him blush with something closer to fondness than embarrassment as he hurried to the kitchen, trying to will away the  _ excitement _ threatening at the front of his boxers with useless facts about what sort of cheeses and fruits went best when paired with a romantic bath date. 

The correct answer to this, of course, was literally anything in the fridge that came close. Lance sauntered back through the bedroom with his makeshift platter and two cups of coffee, deciding that wine didn’t seem appropriate for 11:43 AM and also because they’d drained the last bottle three weekends ago and never restocked. And although he passed up the pop tarts (but the thought had occurred- to chop them into tinier squares and lay them out like a display of cards), his plate was full of other semi-questionable choices, ones that he hoped Shiro would either be impressed with or able to laugh off. 

“Sir, your brunch for two has arrived.” His best bellboy impression offered up, Lance gave the smallest bow before breaking character and chuckling.

Shiro looked over from where he knelt next to the tub in all his boxers-only glory, one hand dipped into the bubbly water and the other braced on his thick thigh, the fond smile there aimed at Lance surely deadly if he wasn’t already bracing for it.

He glanced once at the spread offered before him, that smile creeping into a smirk as he stood and made his way over to his boyfriend.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re good at improvising? This all for us baby?” Shiro grabbed Lance’s chin, forcing him to look up the few inches that separated their height.

“Y-Yeah, all...all the time. Keith in particular has some opinions on that, I think having to do with my mouth…” And that got the reaction Lance wanted, his humor hopefully masking the rabbit speed his heart picked up to the second Shiro’s fingers touched his skin.

Shiro only raised an eyebrow to that, reaching down with his other hand to pluck a grape from what Lance had found in the fridge before popping it in his mouth and ruffling his hair fondly.

“I’m sure he does but he’s not here to share. Just us today sweetheart, although I bet we can get him riled up with some pictures while he’s stuck at work.” 

Lance smiled at that, always one to indulge when it came to fucking with Keith, especially when Shiro was in on it. It helped too that he wasn’t shy with the camera, preened under the praise and knowledge that he looked good and someone else was about to see too, maybe even get off on it. 

“Shiro that’s mean, you want him to make more work for himself? He’ll miss something if he’s trying to hurry home with a boner.” Lance faked his scold, grinning before he too pilfered a grape from the plate. 

He placed it against his lips lewdly, as if that specific fruit _ could _ be lewd in any way but it was Lance so it sort of automatically was, and posed dramatically as Shiro snapped a quick photo with his phone and sent it off to Keith for torture purposes. 

Lance moved to the tub, sliding their afternoon meal against the ceramic lip, watching as Shiro fiddled with the speaker set him and Keith had gifted last Christmas. It wasn’t anything complicated or expensive, just something that would fill the master suite bathroom with music. Lance had gotten the idea after he had the blessing of hearing Shiro hum to himself in the shower, watching the hint of sway in his hips after he got out and toweled himself dry. He asked Keith who confirmed it was an every-time thing and mentioned that they just never got around to getting any proper stereo system, let alone one specifically for the bathroom.

This was simple, just one plug and a little dock at the front for Shiro’s phone, the speakers decent enough to play his music correctly and without loss of depth. He hadn’t stopped using it since he tore open the red and green plaid wrapping paper.

The cozy space filled with music immediately, started in with a familiar pattern from a piano and Lance stood there for a moment, squinting in the general direction of Shiro as a wave of misplaced nostalgia washed over him because some part of him knew this song, but not with the man standing in front of him.

Shiro couldn’t possibly know; he’d never played this since Lance set foot in the cabin that very first night. He seemed satisfied with his choice, tapping the front button a few times to pick up the volume before shucking his boxers and dipping in feet first, unaware of Lance staring at him from the edge of the tub like he held some great mysterious secret to the universe.

Shiro, all 90’s ‘dad-rock’ and and weathered plaid, his five o’clock shadow pulling double duty into the second day, his pepper continuously turning a bit more salt, sunk down into a bath that Keith would have assured looked like it was prepared for a princess, and hummed lazily to goddamn  _ Fleetwood Mac _ . 

_ *You know I’m falling, falling, falling, at your feet* _

Just for a moment, Lance’s memory flashed, the pull completely out of his control as he got a precious three seconds back of something he couldn’t even recall he’d memorized. His mother’s kitchen, the ugly faded hand-towel she kept hanging from the drawer under the sink. The sun-bleached radio in the window, near-hidden by twinning leaves fighting for their sliver of sunlight. And this same song, scratchy and faded because it wasn’t on cd, wasn’t even on tape; his mother’s favorite radio station and as far as Lance could remember, her favorite song.

_ *So help me, help me, help me make the feeling go* _

A soapy arm extended in his direction, Shiro beckoning with his fingers for Lance to snap out of it, to join him in the bath and relax. He shuffled forward, mind still only half present, still trying to make sense of the fact that his own mother and the man he was dating currently overlapped in any way at all. He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant for him; Lance wasn’t one to dwell on their age differences, hell, he sort of preferred it considering the first-hand experience of seeing others his own age fumble and drink through four years they were supposed to be studying for what would become of their lives.

But it still felt a little strange. He stood there, just watching the movements, Shiro’s big, soapy hands on his hips as they tugged his boxers down, new feelings and old intermingling as the song coasted through the air and his mind. Nothing special, nothing that should be any sort of impact because he’d felt Shiro’s hands on him plenty of times, work-hardened calluses with a firm grip, skating over his body and lifting him like he weighed roughly close to the wet towel they kept forgetting on the porch. But it felt like he had to remember this, like this forming memory would disappear and pop back years later when he didn’t ask for it, maybe the exact moment of him hearing this song once more.

Warmth enveloped him and Lance let his eyes slide closed, Shiro settling him tight against his own reclining form, back to chest. Strong, sure arms wrapped tight around his waist under the water and Shiro held him like that, all the while humming to the song, their brunch on hold at the foot of the tub.

_ *’Cause when the loving starts and the lights go down, there’s not another living soul around.* _

Lance smiled to himself, feeling Shiro’s stubble prickle along the side of his neck, the sound of his gentle hum clearer and softer than the song around them. He let his hands sink into the water, that final tense his body was holding fall away starting from his shoulders and traveling down as he intertwined his fingers with the ones already gripping his hips.

“God Shiro, you’re so old.” Lance made sure the tease was clear in his voice.

“Not too old, right?” He caught the tease easily, knew it was because of his music choice.

“Not too old.” Almost a whisper, but paired with a gentle squeeze of his hands below the water.

“What about when I’m all grey?” Shiro squeezed back, his lips brushing against the shell of Lance’s ear.

And Lance just smiled again, pressing his weight back toward the impossible muscled body behind him and let his head fall to the side, giving Shiro full access as if he didn’t already have it.

“Mm, even better for me.”

As much as it was suggestive, especially coming from Lance’s lips, there was truth in his words. A truth he hoped Shiro caught because ever since they’d talked, ever since they let him know everything could be okay no matter what he chose for the future, he’d felt more at home than ever. The years difference didn’t matter, the years Lance missed of them being only together as a pair didn’t either. No one could escape from the slow march of time; age, as much as it could solely be a mental thing, still impacted the body. Shiro would get old and so would Keith, and so would Lance. They’d do it together- Lance at least hoped that was the future that would unfold but the fact still stood: Shiro was closer to the changes and he’d hit them first. Was already hitting them if his hair was any indication.

Not that Lance worried much over that; the man was and would be in far better shape than he could ever himself be. Just to test that, he skirted a palm across the wide expanse of one thigh, his smaller form slotting wonderfully right between Shiro’s open legs.

_ *You woo me until the sun comes up, and you say that you love me.* _

Shiro’s reply never came in words, instead his lips traveled down a tan neck, pressing kisses that started too light and ended like there was something heavy behind the meaning. Lance felt his grasp tighten, as if Shiro could pull Lance from anyone else’s reach and keep him all to himself. Maybe he was trying. Maybe like this, together barely fitting in the tub in this cabin away from anything else, Shiro let himself be vulnerable just for a moment. Just when Lance couldn’t easily turn around and see it.

He’d never be selfish about his boyfriend’s future because he wanted the world for him, wanted Lance to find his own way. But maybe right now it was ok, just for a bit.

_ *And you say that you love. Say that you love me. Saaay that you love me.* _

The water shifted as Lance tried to turn, a pinprick of instinct nagging at him because Shiro was just a little too quiet, holding just a little too tight and the humming had stopped. And as he did, as he tilted just enough for Shiro to raise his head up, lips lingering before they left skin, Lance couldn’t think of anything to say, was caught in the eyes of a man he’d fumbled over in a coffee shop, scolded himself for staring at someone married, and then fell hopelessly, dangerously for both of them. 

“I love you.”

_ *Fallin’, fallin’, fallin’* _

This time Lance didn’t ask why; he didn’t need to- it was written across Shiro’s face, not a chance in the world that anyone could hide that look. But he stared anyways, searching and searching for something to say that could come close to the vast sea of emotions those words crashed him in to. 

They were always so careful, so considerate whenever Lance was here. The fondness was there, the sort of song and dance that only people who have been together days and days for years could perform. It was seamless, natural; no one was trying but they never said it in front of him. They never made him feel left out, never made him feel like he was just the boyfriend to two married people because even if it started like that it wasn’t the destination anymore.

Where they were going together wasn’t as simple as a title and couldn’t possibly mean anything to anyone else but them.

Lance never said it because he was scared. He’d look at Shiro, watch the tiny crinkle in the corners of his eyes when he laughed, admired his worn hands in the kitchen sink while he scrubbed the pots and pans, swore that it just wasn’t right to put them in the dishwasher. He couldn’t risk losing any of that, just the same as he couldn’t risk it with Keith.

He didn’t have to anymore; the risk was gone and in its place was only truth. 

The music didn’t matter anymore. The bath, the food, their surely cold cups of coffee. None of it mattered other than the man before him, holding him so securely and opening his heart in the one way that Lance could only ever hope that his actions could show his true feelings.

Lance wasn’t prepared for it but he was more sure of himself this time around. He could feel the tell-tale signs of a blush creeping up, smiled anyway because Shiro just did that to him too often for him to feel embarrassed about it. Instead, he rolled to his side, tucked his forehead under Shiro’s chin and curled his hands over his boyfriend’s heart.

“I know. I love you too. I’ve loved you for so long. Both of you.”

The song slowed to its end, fading out and leaving them in comfortable silence and Lance caught the deep, pleased sigh, the wandering hands and trickle of warm water against parts of his skin that weren’t submerged. Shiro ran his touch up and along shoulders, squeezing Lance closer to his body and ghosting a kiss along messy brown locks and with it came the quietest ‘thank you’, so hushed and faint but loud enough that they’d both hear it, together.


End file.
